


Once Upon a Dream

by SunnyRose



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Contracts, Cultural Differences, Cursed Thorin, Drunken Shenanigans, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Blood Tooks, Family Shenanigans, Hobbit Culture & Customs, M/M, Sleeping Beauty AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyRose/pseuds/SunnyRose
Summary: Sleeping Beauty AU.Prince Thorin's birth was supposed a happy affair in the Kingdom of Erebor until Smaug appears demanding the Arkenstone. Gandalf helps ease the curse, but Thorin is destined to lose his soul by his majority unless he receives true love's kiss. Meanwhile, Prince Bilbo has grown up in the Shire dreaming of a mysterious figure with blue eyes. Cue Thorin's approach with the promise of adventure. Bilbo accepts, unaware of the danger that awaits him. So long as he's with Thorin, anything to see those blue eyes...
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 58
Kudos: 42





	1. Prologue Part 1- The Dragon's Curse

In all of the seven dwarf kingdoms, none seemed to be more blessed than that of Erebor. Deep within the Lonely Mountain ran rivers of gold and gems that flowed freely into the hands of its citizens. The utopian kingdom was the envy amongst most of the world, and it was only by the fair and steady hand of its ruling family, the Durins, that kept Erebor from falling to greedy desires. So beloved are the Durins that the birth of a new royal is a day full of joy and praise.

It was said the birth of Prince Thrain, eighty years ago, led to a week long festival of drinking and partying that swore many dwarrows off the ale they love so much. However, with the announcement that the Prince and his lady wife were expecting, the food prepping began and the casks were rolled out. Mere weeks before the birth of the new royal, a white gemstone that glowed from a light within was found in the mines. So beautiful was the newly dubbed Arkenstone, it was believed Mahal himself favored the royal to be. Thror placed the gem above the cradle showing how loved and precious the new life in the mountain was to all the Durin’s folk.

Finally, the birthday of Prince Thorin arrived. The people paraded the streets singing songs of happiness and promise for their new prince. Delegations far and wide were invited to pay homage. Even the Elf King of Greenwood, Thranduil, brought the Gems of Lasgalen to establish an alliance with the young royal. The era of Prince Thorin seemed like it was going to be one of peace and prosperity...and then _He_ appeared.

Just to the north lay Mount Gundabad, home of the Unseelie Fae Court. Dark creatures resided in those deep, cold tunnels. Orcs, goblins, and other beastly nasties, and the leader of this diabolical group was Smaug, Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities. Unfortunately, one could not simply ignore their disreputable Northern neighbors for there was a tricky line with the nature of Fae. So easily could they be offended that any task for establishing trade had to be handled with the utmost precision. Ignore them, however, and more powerful and wretched foes could not be found elsewhere. Therefore, Thror met with the Unseelie Court once a year at a neutral location where he paid tribute to Smaug for the safety of his citizens. It was a tricky contract that had been created, and the clauses had been argued by both sides in the most literal of meanings before the deal had been struck. Truly King Thror had a wit beyond his kind to delegate such terms, and yet there was a single line that would haunt his family on what should have been a most joyous occasion. 

_Lord Smaug is to be notified of any event that may hinder the production of gold that is given in exchange for the protection of the citizens of Erebor._

Ambiguous, just as the Fae desire, King Thror overlooked this line believing never would there come a time where the riches of Erebor would stop flowing, and the dwarf king was correct. However, it was the pickiness of that word “hinder”. For though Prince Thorin’s birth would not stand in the way of the Unseelie Court gaining their riches, it did temporarily close the mines for the celebration. Thus, “hindering” production. An oversight none was aware of, say for one, and he had been biding his time for a moment like this to exploit his position.

He appeared in the center of the Hall of Kings where the Durins were receiving their guests. A whipping of the wind like a hurricane and a blast of fire so strong it scorched all it touched in an instant, was all the warning they had before Smaug stepped forward. Red horns protruded from his deceivingly innocent dark curls, the shadows forming around his willowy form like a cloak, his sharp cheekbones inhuman, and his yellow reptilian eyes cold and hungry. Princess Fris immediately took a step towards her infant’s crib, but Prince Thrain grabbed her just in time knowing such disrespect would ruin them. At the same time, King Thror jumped to his feet placing himself between Smaug and his new grandson. All of this was noticed by the Fae, even more drawing him was the glowing light of the Arkenstone hanging above Thorin’s head.

“Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, please excuse my entrance, but it seems my invitation got lost in the mountains.” Smaug greeted with a respectful incline of his head.

“There was no oversight. You weren’t invited.” Thror answered bluntly.

“Oh.” Smaug feigned surprise. “Well, this is certainly awkward.”

“We have no alliance. We have a contract of coexistence.” Thror defended.

“Yes, the contract.” Smaug pondered, tapping a finger to his chin as he paced before the royal family. “Perhaps you should review Article Eight, Subsection Six.”

Thror narrowed his eyes, and Smaug merely smirked in response, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Never removing his gaze from the being before him, the king motioned for his advisor. Fundin has served him admirably with his keen wit and diplomatic skills, and his eldest son, Balin, seemed to possess the same skills. The dark haired pair approached with the unfurrowed contract. It was only then that Thror lowered his gaze scanning the document for the aforementioned section. The entire hall was dead quiet waiting to hear the king’s verdict. The moment he found it, his face drained of color reassuring none.

“Surely...you can’t expect this to hold up…” Thror argued weakly.

Thrain pushed his way to his father’s side in order to see the contract as well. Smaug merely gave a feral grin as it became clear just how grave a mistake had been made. After all, to break a contract on the Fae’s side was to forfeit their magic. Only a punishment of equal measure could appease the Lord of the Unseelie.

“By Mahal, this must be jest. We have _hindered_ nothing! We can bring a cart of gold up as payment right now just to show you how much is _hindered_!” Thrain ranted as his arms tightened and shook.

“Is there gold being produced this very moment, Prince Thrain?” Smaug sneered. “I’m afraid ignorance of the common language is not validation of the breach.”

Prince Thrain’s face twisted in fury, but before he could move against the Fae Lord, Thror placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. He met his blazing eyes with a look of steely resolve. This was not the time for war.

“What can I offer that would justify our unintended blunder?” Thror grudgingly offered much to his son’s dismay.

Smaug started to pace putting a hand to his chin as if deep in thought. However, his eyes glittered maliciously, and continually returned to the bassinet in front of him.

“In our culture, Favors are returned in kind. For this act of _thievery..._ ”

Many complaints and offense was given amongst those gathered in the Great Hall, but a hand up from their king quickly silenced them. Smaug continued undeterred.

“I request a precious gift in return. Give me the new Prince Under the Mountain.”

Roars of outrage now reigned throughout the palace, and many dwarrows reached for their weapons prepared to defend the new babe with their own life if need be. Princess Fris lunged for the cradle with a cry holding Thorin tightly to her breast with a desperation only a mother could know. Prince Thrain put his arm around her while his other gripped the hilt of his battle hammer tightly. Smaug watched the proceedings calmly with an air of smug satisfaction.

“Surely, there is something else that is within my power to grant.” Thror protested weakly in trying to delay the inevitable war that was to come.

Smaug slammed his staff onto the stone floor beneath him with such force that many outside the palace mistook it for thunder. It was quiet once more, but the atmosphere remained tense. The dwarves remained armed.

“Thror, son of Dain of the line of Durin, King of Erebor Under the Lonely Mountain. I have offered you repentance, and you have denied me. You shame your house and your kin. Be grateful I offer you this mercy, or the contract shall be broken and your kingdom cursed. If you will not grant me the newborn prince, then there is but one other treasure I would deem worthy. Give onto me the gem of a thousand sparks of white radiance. Give me that which you name Arkenstone, and all your transgressions will be forgiven.”

The true object of Smaug’s desire was finally made aware, and the foolish dwarrows had fallen right into his trap. Thror’s decision in regards to this request was a popular political debate for years to come among the Ereborians. Many considered Smaug’s original request to be so insulting and audacious that by sheer honor, his request for the stone be denied as well. Heroic ballads have been weaved at the extent that one undertook for dwarven honor, and clearly his desire for the Arkenstone could only be that of a sinister nature. Others in the mountain, condemned any that would risk the wrath of the Unseelie Court for a mere glittering gem. No matter how beautiful the gem.

Thror’s eyes moved towards the Arkenstone, etching its beauty into his mind. Truly, there was no other object of Middle Earth that was its equal. The king had always done what was right by his people first and foremost. The dissolution of this contract would leave them vulnerable to orc attacks once more. However, his weakness for pretty things had a tight grip on his heart, unable to let go of the gem.

“You ask for too much.” Thror choked out. “I cannot give you the Arkenstone.”

Smaug frowned, clearly not anticipating this answer. “You are a foolish king indeed.” He spat.

A golden glow emitted from around him. “Hear me well, Erebor. The greed of your king shall be your undoing:

_I place a curse upon this stronghold._

_Any that live here will be mad for gold._

_Stronger for the Durins I cast this spell._

_The siren song of greed they will fell._

_And for the dashing Thorin, you all so admire._

_Upon his majority, his soul will be lost entire._

_So say I, Smaug, of an Unseelie Throne._

_Until I have my Arkenstone.”_

There was no stopping the dwarrows as they did not hesitate to attack the vile creature that dared to threaten harm to their monarchs. The golden aura around Smaug lashed outwards knocking everyone off their feet. With a triumphant laugh, he disappeared the same way he appeared. In a flash of fire. The contract still held tight in Fundin’s hands was quickly dropped as it burst into flames before falling to ash.

No one dared to move for a long moment. Then shouts of outrage and fear erupted from the masses, and the guards quickly surrounded the Durins and the Arkenstone as they were led out of the hall and to their chambers. Away from the eyes of their people, Fris broke into tears for the fate of her precious Thorin. Thrain and Thror, grim and ashen, turned to each other in question of their next move.

“What do we do now, Father?” Thrain demanded, fear for his son thick in his voice.

Thror cast his eyes downward. “I’m not so naive as to believe all will be so easily fixed by giving up the Arkenstone.”

Thrain pressed his lips together to keep from saying anything in disagreement. His doubts nagged further by the protective way Thror held the stone. However, the Fae had already managed to twist so innocent of words to put them in this situation in the first place. It would indeed be foolish to presume Smaug gave them so simple an answer to this terrible curse.

“Perhaps,” Fundin spoke up having followed after the royal family. “We should send for the wizard, Tharkun? Even if he can do nothing to combat the curse, he may be able to advise on how best to proceed.”

Thror and Thrain raised their eyebrows at so brilliant a suggestion. Tharkun had been a friend of the dwarves for many years, and was well versed in the Laws of the Fae. 

“Send a raven immediately.” Thror ordered Fundin.

The advisor did not hesitate to comply. Thror made his way towards his grandson already burdened with so much not even a day into life. He placed his hand to Thorin’s forehead while bowing his own.

“I swear this onto you, gulmalûm (tiny sparkle), I will give my life to make this right. Mukhuh Mahal bakhuz murukhzu (May Mahal’s hammer shield you).”

Thorin merely blinked his dark eyes reaching into the unknown with curious fists that brushed against his grandfather’s beard drawing a bittersweet smile from the elder dwarf. He stepped away, and Thrain took his place completing his small and vulnerable family. Thror let his eyes fall outside the window to the world beyond as a thrush swept the skies. May speed bid Tharkun return with the hope they desperately needed.


	2. Prologue Part 2- The Wizard's Blessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf is sent for and offers the Durins his services.

Gandalf, or Tharkun as he was known in the dwarven courts, was actually closer than they realized. He knew the birth of the prince of the Durins was drawing near, and the Valar had gifted him with foresight towards the new life’s vital role in the future of Middle Earth. Foresight was a tricky thing to navigate. Many assumed it was images or messages passed down when it was nothing more than an inkling. A ‘ping’ in the cosmetic bell resonating sound outward for all to hear, and this ripple had been most assuredly originating from Erebor. Therefore, the appearance of Thror’s raven surprised him none, but did hasten his progress.

“Come, Belladonna. I fear our arrival may already be seen as too late.” He instructed his ward.

The young hobbit who looked vastly uncomfortable on her small pony merely squinted at the grey wizard.

“I thought a wizard was neither early nor late.” She quipped.

Gandalf hid his smile as he pressed them onward. When he was approached by the adventurous princess, he did not hesitate to take her into the wilderness of Middle Earth far beyond her precious Shire. Another ‘ping’ in the universe. Her company had been most appreciated and cherished. He would miss her greatly when she was returned to the kindly West.

“If you have energy to sass, you have energy to ride. Don’t fall behind.” He ordered.

He was able to catch her eye roll out of the corner of his gaze, but she obeyed with little extra fuss. By the time the sun sank below the horizon, the great gates to the Lonely Mountain were within their sights.

“Thank Mahal, Tharkun!” Fundin met him upon his arrival. “Your presence is needed immediately.”

Gandalf narrowed his eyes and nodded his understanding as he followed the dwarf into the kingdom. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he found himself frozen under the pressure of the dark magic still hanging in the air. Beside him, Belladonna let out a gasp further solidifying his instincts. Fundin paused when he noticed he was no longer being followed, and turned to Gandalf with a desperate look in his eyes.

“I believe you had best start to explain, my good dwarf.” The grey wizard demanded.

Fundin’s face fell into a weariness unbefitting the fairly good-humored diplomat.

“Not here. Please, Tharkun.”

With renewed urgency, Gandalf fought his way to the royal chambers, Belladonna his faithful shadow. Once they had finally reached the royal family, rather than finding a reprieve from the evil permeating the palace, it was even more strongly concentrated. In the first few seconds it took Gandalf to bow in respect, he saw the gaunt and pale faces of the usually spirited Durins. Even worse was the death shadow of a particularly cruel curse twisted around the young newborn cradled in his mother’s arms. Gandalf felt his face fall as empathy squeezed his heart.

“Thror, my dear friend, what horror has befallen you and your kin?”

Whatever mask the king thought he was wearing crumbled as his chin shook with repressed emotion.

“Tharkun, Bâhukhazâd (Dwarf-friend), I’m afraid I’m in desperate need of your counsel.”

They took their seats, the Durins on one sofa, Fundin in the armchair beside them, and Gandalf and Belladonna on the facing settee. While the hobbit was given some curious and disconcerting glances, she had not been asked to leave. A true testament to the desolation breaching the walls of Erebor. Thror spun his tale describing Smaug’s arrival, citing the now charred contract, and revealing the horrific curse passed upon their House. It was the line pertaining to Thorin that had Belladonna on her feet, pacing and mumbling angry Hobbitish curses much to the amusement of her hosts.

“Gandalf, how could he?! He risks breaking one of the Unnegotiable Laws!” She cried looking at him with the same hope that the dwarrows held.

The grey wizard pulled out his pipe from the deep recesses of his cloak puzzling on all he had been told. Grave was the curse that held his dwarven friends, and Belladonna was right about the Unnegotiable Laws of the Fae. Wordsmith and silver tongues they are, but never had they played with the literacy of their Unnegotiable Laws.

“Unnegotiable Laws?” Fundin questioned.

“One of nine that bound the Fae.” Gandalf answered absent-mindedly as he still worked through the narrative.

“Then is there a higher power we can adhere to if he broke one of these laws?” Fris pleaded.

Belladonna was the one to answer as she shook her head in disappointment for the new mother.

“I’m afraid not, Your Highness. The Unnegotiable Laws were made of Fae magic by the Sidhee, themselves. If he had broken it...well, it would have been obvious in that moment. The Golden Lord retaining his power is not a good sign.”

Gandalf glanced down at his friend at the mention of one of many of Smaug’s titles. It was no secret that gold was the weakness of the self-proclaimed king. So what was it about this...Arkenstone that he would risk isolating the last of his people for?

“Do you still have the stone?” He asked passively.

Thror’s eyebrows drew downward as his fingers twitched towards his robe’s pocket.

“Yes.” He answered gruffly.

Gandalf found his reaction odd if nothing else.

“May I see it?” He persisted.

The dwarf king did not answer him as a tension settled over his body. It was then that Gandalf noticed the dark bags hanging under the eyes of all three royals plus their advisor, and the lack of gold on their person or in the room. Clearly, the curse on their line has already taken effect. Gandalf leaned back with his pipe holding Thror’s dark gaze. The king’s next move would determine how much help Gandalf could be. After all, a curse upon the mind was not an easy fix. A curse upon the heart, harder still. And a curse upon the soul? His eyes glanced sadly over to baby Thorin sleeping soundly against his mother’s breast.

Thorin made a small snuffling noise, capturing Thror’s attention as well. The grandfather’s eyes softened at the beardless babe before turning back to Gandalf with a slump in his shoulders. Very slowly, he pulled the stone from his pocket. Immediately entranced with the gem was the wizard, and so it seemed to be the hobbit as Belladonna looked as if to take a step closer. Gandalf nudged her foot with his, and when she met his gaze, he gave her a subtle shake of his head. Best not to incite the precarious peace of the dwarrows with this. 

Thror quickly hid his treasure away once he felt Gandalf had gotten his fill. The grey wizard only found himself more perplexed. Never had he seen a gem glow with an inner light since the Gems of Lasgalen, and they were literal starlight. Whatever powered the heart of this creation was great indeed.

“Tharkun, can you help us?” Thror asked the question weighing heavily on the minds of him and his son.

Gandalf had dreaded this question since learning of the Durins plight.

“If you mean, can I break this curse? I’m afraid not, my old friend.”

Thrain’s arm wrapped around Fris as she buried her head into Thorin trying to keep from sobbing.

“Truly, it is hopeless?” Fundin beseeched sounding so close to tears himself.

Gandalf removed his pipe having let it die out long ago and busied himself with dumping the ashes in the crystal tray on the table next to him as he stalled for time.

“Nothing is ever truly hopeless, Your Majesties.” Belladonna piped up surprising all the occupants in the room. “Powerful is the curse of the Fae made upon a broken contract, but my people have a saying: ‘Dark is the shadow, but stronger is the light which gave it life.’ The love you share for each other and for the little Prince is a true light. Have hope that love will stand unwavering to free you from this darkness.”

Gandalf felt a smile tug at his lips in spite of himself. Never would he cease to be amazed by hobbits. It seemed the Durins were inspired as well as they stared at her with looks of wonder and gratitude.

“Thank you, Mistress Hobbit.” Thror choked out, unable to hold back his tears any longer. “Please, forgive our rudeness that we never inquired the name of our guest.”

“Thror, son of Dain of the line of Durin.” He stood up executing a full bow. “At your service.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Your Majesty, when dealing with such a terrible ordeal. Belladonna Took of the Shire, at yours and your kin.” She responded fluidly with a curtsy of her own.

“Thrain, son of Thror, of the line of Durin, at your service.” The prince also stood up giving a sweeping bow of his own. “Your kind words have rekindled our spirits, Mistress Took. If ever you have need of us, you need only speak your request, and it shall be fulfilled.”

Belladonna flushed at so great a favor from the royal family. 

“Please, no, I am but a simple hobbit.”

“But a princess.” Gandalf corrected, too amused by the situation, and by the reactions, if the look of horrors on the dwarven faces and Belladonna’s own irritated glare were anything to go off.

Still Gandalf had become inspired by the smaller being’s kind heart.

“Thror, King Under the Lonely Mountain, I’m afraid there is little I can do for you in the way of this Gold Sickness that plagues you and your kin. You asked for advice, and the only thing I can think to offer is that you leave Erebor until it is safe for you to return.”

“Leave Erebor?” Fundin repeated aghast. “Where could we possibly go?”

“There is a settlement in the West that is small and in need of guidance that I believe would take in your people. Ered Luin, is the name it has been given.” Gandalf answered.

“Please, Tharkun. There must be another way besides abandoning our home. Would giving the Arkenstone up fix any of this?” Thrain pleaded ignoring the tense and angry look of his father.

Gandalf sighed and shook his head sadly. “If the curse you spoke was word for word, I’m afraid there are many interpretations of what ‘Until I have my Arkenstone’ could entail.”

The dwarves seemed utterly perplexed by how such a straightforward line could be misconstrued, and Belladonna took it upon herself to spell it out for them.

“Since the line was the last he spoke it could undo all of the curse or just a small portion of it.” She explained. “For example, he could imply that once he gets the Arkenstone, he no longer plans to sit on _an_ Unseelie Throne as he specifically stated. And honestly, I wouldn’t put it past the dreadful, heartless wyrm.”

The dwarves seemed amused by her insult, but none reassured of what their next step would entail.

“I know this is not the news you hoped for, but there is one last thing I can do.” Gandalf offered to the interest of the dwarves. “I may not be able to resend the curse on Prince Thorin, but I could offer a blessing that would save his life.”

Thrain and Fris sucked in a breath as if such a thing was too much to believe in.

“Please, Tharkun. Whatever you can offer would be a kindness we can never hope to repay.” Fris begged holding out the baby to him.

“Belladonna, your necklace if I may.” Gandalf asked.

The hobbit did not hesitate to hand over her trinket. A simple carving of amber in the shape of an acorn that she became enamored with as they passed a dwarven caravan earlier on their journey. Gandalf took it reverently, giving her hand a small quick pat of thanks. It had been a few hundred years since the last time he had to make a countercurse, and he found himself mumbling under his breath as he searched for the right words. Finally, he was ready, and he held his staff over both the baby and the necklace in his hand.

“Prince Thorin, here is my gift to thee:

_Upon your soul so dark a curse,_

_Be eased of hatred by this verse._

_Imprisoned not lost, by the necklace your wear._

_As you wait for the courage of one so fair._

_In sleep, not death, so say this:_

_You will awaken at true love’s kiss.”_

The magic from Gandalf’s staff transferred straight into the amber necklace. It shined bright for a mere moment before returning to its light brown shade. Gandalf slipped it over the baby’s neck, careful not to disturb him.

“As long as he wears this necklace, his body will be preserved when the curse comes to pass.” Gandalf explained to the anxious parents.

Fris wrapped an arm around Gandalf to press her forehead against his in a sign of deep gratitude. Gandalf accepted the gesture knowing he did little in saving Thorin from his fate. Merely giving him the hope to lift it. However, it was enough for the dwarrows. As it had passed late into the evening, Gandalf and Belladonna were given the most beautiful guest rooms in the palace with the reassurance to make themselves at home for as long as they saw fit. 

For the next week, talk began in earnest about how best to combat the gold sickness. Gandalf was invited to sit in on many of those meetings as a neutral voice. The way he saw it, there were three parts to this curse. One upon the stronghold, one upon the Durins, and one upon Thorin himself. He had done what he could for Thorin. The Durins’ curse was much trickier to navigate as they had to resist the allure of greed, but greed came in many forms and Gandalf offered them private counsel on their best course of action. When it came to the curse of the kingdom itself, he did have an alternative solution to leaving.

“Tear down your doors and lower the number of guards. You will no longer be a stronghold.”

The simple suggestion went over as well as one would expect when dealing with hard headed dwarrows stuck in their ways and inching deeper into madness. Allies were talked about as robbers, and robbers as enemies of the state. After that, it took all of Gandalf’s considerable patience and many puffs of his pipe not to curse them twice over himself.

Meanwhile, Belladonna whiled away her time with Princess Fris and Prince Thorin. The hobbit and dwarf found themselves to be fast friends, and as such discussed many possibilities for the future. Often the subject drifted to the idea of the Ereborian dwarrows having to relocate west. Belladonna promised to speak on their behalf to the Thain of the Shire, her father, and how mutually beneficial their alliance could be.

In the time that the hobbit and wizard stayed, the curse only grew. Fights broke out in the streets over the smallest scrap of gold, and as the currency switched to only silver and copper, poverty grew at alarming rates. It started to dawn on the desperate dwarrows that leaving Erebor may be the only option they have left. For the safety and wellbeing of their people. While an official announcement had yet to be made, the citizens of Erebor began to pack their belongings and secure their mounts. Eyes were looking west to the promise of greener fields for their yieldless hearts. Of course, the dwarrows were not the only ones with their gazes set on the setting sun.

The longer the young adventurous Took stayed, the more she began to long for home. Her home in the Shire was nothing like the grand halls of the Lonely Mountain, yet she saw her father in Thror. She imagined what saying yes to that young Baggins lad who constantly sought to court her would be like when she caught sight of the love shared between Fris and Thrain. And, despite how much she denied these feelings, she yearned for a precious babe of her own when she held Prince Thorin, and he merely watched her with his steady, curious eyes that were slowly turning blue like the sky above. Therefore, after three weeks of debate and counsel, when Gandalf asked if she was ready to depart, she agreed unfaltering.

The evening before they were to leave, Prince Thrain asked them for one last service. He led them down to the treasury whose doors had sealed the riches behind it many moons ago. He knew leaving was inevitable, but he was reluctant to allow their wealth to fall in the hands of looters. He asked for a spell that would lock the vault away for any that were not Thorin. Whether this was the heart of one sick in gold madness or the plea of a hopeful father, Gandalf did not know. Still, he deemed it a wise decision for many reasons known only to him. The seal was set, and finally the hobbit was able to head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sixth Unnegotiable Law of the Fae: Children are a precious Gift, and shall never be the subject of direct harm.


	3. Prologue Part 3- The Shire's Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Bilbo is finally born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last of the prologue! 
> 
> Also, I firmly believe that magic spells should always be written in rhyming couplets.

Seventeen years had passed the sleepy Shire in no time at all. Belladonna Took, the wayward princess, had set out to do all she had promised herself causing quite the stir in her fellow hobbits. Upon returning, she rode her pony straight to the Party Tree, where Baudry Longfoot was celebrating his forty-second birthday. She grabbed poor Bungo Baggins by the lapels of his good jacket and snogged the life out of him. The impropriety of the event was talked about for years, much to the embarrassment of the entire Baggins family. However, Bungo just gave her a lopsided smile and asked her to marry him for the eleventh time. This time she said yes.

When she wasn’t busy attending to her new husband and the construction of their new smial, she was pestering her father with trade negotiations on behalf of the dwarrows of Ered Luin. Gerontius Took was perplexed, for while he always knew his eldest daughter to be headstrong, he had never seen her so interested in politics. However, upon revealing the despicable curse that befell the young prince, many on the Hobbit’s council were up in arms about how best they could support their neighbors. 

It took five years to reach a settlement that was agreed upon by all, and in that time the Durins and their people had finally reached Ered Luin. It had been quite the journey for the dwarrows of Erebor and their royal family. Smaug had attempted to ambush them on their way out with an army of orcs. King Thror led the charge to protect his retreating people that ultimately cost him his life, but cost the great orc General, Azog, his arm. 

As King Thrain was new to rule, there was much unrest with his people especially on an alliance with the hobbits who they mistrusted for their Fae-like appearances. Fris and Belladonna were able to broker a contract that would unite their people with betrothal of Prince Thorin to Belladonna’s first born child. The only stipulation in place was that should the true love to break Prince Thorin’s curse not be the child of Bungo and Belladonna Baggins, the contract would be immediately terminated. The fact that the wellbeing of the eldest prince was considered at all endeared many to the hobbits and their aid.

Therefore, in spite of the fact that Belladonna was the ninth child of the Thain and in no way close to the line of succession, many dwarrows had still arrived to the Shire on this day, the birth of the hobbit prince, betrothed of Prince Thorin. Bungo paced outside the bedroom, distraught and torn between being there for his wife and his natural need to play host to the dwarrows invading his smial. 

Of course there was King Thrain and Queen Fris with their now three children. Prince Thorin, you would not even imagine as being cursed upon first glance, grew rapidly into a gangly seventeen year old with the barest hint of a dark beard on his face. Prince Frerin, now twelve, was golden haired and mischievous. Many a time, he was able to drag Thorin and Dwalin, Fundin’s youngest, into his tricks and games that resulted in Balin having to intervene in all the exasperation the young adult could manage. Then, there was Princess Dis, all of three in her nappies tugging on Thorin’s hand in demand of his attention while his eyes wandered pleadingly over to where Frerin and Dwalin were playing with Balin and Fundin watching on. 

Those were just the dwarrows in the house. Many more were stationed in the town of Hobbiton, milling about in the pubs and inns or guarding the smial their royal family currently resided. In short, Bungo Baggins was getting his first real taste of life amongst the dwarrows, and it would have been stressful enough if his dear wife wasn’t screaming in the next room over.

Finally, the midwife came out to announce the birth of a healthy baby boy to the new father. Everyone cheered as Bungo was ushered into the bedroom where his wife lay, and he was handed the small crying bundle. Golden curls already graced the crown of his head, and the tufts of his feet. Bungo felt like it was a very appropriate moment to tear up. He leaned in to give his exhausted wife a kiss to her forehead and show her the fruit of her labor. She cooed as she counted his little toes and cradled the babe close to her breast in an attempt to soothe his whimpers.

“He’s beautiful. Our little Bilbo.” She declared.

Bungo could not argue with her on that. After Bilbo was fed, and both mother and son were cleaned up, they began to usher their guests in to see the new prince of the Shire. Being his intended, Thorin was allowed to enter first with his mother and father. Still a child himself, the significance of this moment was lost on Thorin as he gazed down at the small thing that screamed louder than Dis not even twenty minutes ago with wary hesitation.

“What do you think, Thorin?” Belladonna prompted with a smile as she held the babe out towards him.

Thorin allowed his eyes to wander all over the tiny creature, but he made no move to take it. Partly in fear of breaking the smallest baby he has ever seen, and partly because of one feature that made itself overly apparent to him.

“His name is Bilbo.” His mother stated, urging him to speak.

“Why does Bilbo have such big feet?” He finally blurted out earning a swat to his backside.

Belladonna laughed in delight explaining that hobbits had big feet. Thorin had definitely noticed this fact and wanted to argue that dwarrows had beards, but weren’t born with them. After all, the hobbit’s feet were already bigger than Dis’ own! It was odd. However, the fear of another swat stayed his tongue.

“Thorin, don’t you have a gift for Prince Bilbo?” His father nudged him.

Thorin blinked, having almost forgotten. He dug around in his pocket before revealing his small token. Even though he was royal, it was still customary for every dwarf to have a Craft. He had been working towards finding his and thought he would try his hand at carving. An old miner by the name of Bifur who he had become fast friends with showed him how to hold the wood block and sweep the knife with the grain. He still wasn’t sure if this was his Craft, but he handed the talisman over anyways. Much like the necklace he wore, he carved an acorn at the base of an oak tree with the Khuzdul word _barak_ etched on the base. It was clumsy and rigid, but the details seemed to bring his first creation to life.

“Go on, tell Princess Belladonna what it means.” His mother reminded him as he passed it over to the hobbit woman.

“It says ‘shield’ in Khuzdul.” He mumbled trying to keep from fidgeting. “It’s to keep Prince Bilbo safe.”

“A little oaken shield.” Belladonna mused. “I think it is perfect.”

She gave him a smile, and Thorin felt himself beaming. After all, praise of one’s Craft was of the highest compliment a dwarf could receive. Now that he had done what was asked of him though, he found himself getting bored. He turned to his mother.

“Can I go play with Dwalin and Frerin now?” He pleaded.

“Don’t you want to hold Bilbo?” She questioned.

He took one look at the sleeping babe with the button nose and big feet.

“No.” He answered honestly.

Fris sighed before giving him the affirmation he seeked. His smile brightened, and with a quick bow to Belladonna and Bungo, he raced to the door and out to the parlor where he last left his friend and brother. The rest of the room laughed while Fris merely shook her head. Clearly, her visions of a romantic love at first sight between the two was dashed much to the amusement of her husband and her friend.

Unfortunately, Belladonna’s laughter jostled little Bilbo who immediately started to whine on the verge of a full blown meltdown. Belladonna quickly started to rock him to ease his frustration.

“Such a fussy little gardenia, our Bilbo.” She complained.

“A Baggins through and through.” Bungo puffed up.

Belladonna rolled her eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

The couples shared another laugh while Bilbo kicked and stretched against his mistreatment. Almost as if he realized he was the butt of their little jest, Bilbo blinked against the light and furrowed his little brows. Despite his grumpy and fastidious demeanor, Belladonna only found love in her heart for the babe she had the honor of calling hers.

“Amad! Amad! I wanna see the baby!”

Dis had managed to sneak her way through the open door that Thorin had left and was now pulling on her mother’s skirts in demand of the new creature that held everyone’s attention. Knowing Dis wasn’t the gentlest soul, Fris was hesitant to put the infant in her path.

“Hop up here with me, Dis. We’ll hold him together.” Belladonna offered patting the bed next to her.

Dis wasted no time in scrambling up to her new perch as she held her hands out expectantly. Fris looked over at Belladonna to make sure it was alright, but the new mother merely smiled warmly and nodded. Fris urged Dis to be very careful as Belladonna placed Bilbo into her lap.

“What do you think of Bilbo?” Belladonna asked her arms around the toddler to guide her hold.

“Bilbo, I love you.” Dis declared before bringing her head down to smack into the newborn own.

With Dis being fairly young herself, she had thankfully yet to develop the thick skull of dwarrows, and certainly didn’t hit hard enough that the traditional greeting would have any lasting harm on the young hobbit. Still, Bungo released a cry as Bilbo screamed at the top of his little lungs. Fris yanked Dis off the bed taking her into the other room to reprimand her as Belladonna tried to soothe poor Bilbo. Thrain couldn’t help releasing a deep belly laugh at the irony of Thorin wanting nothing to do with the baby, and Dis headbutting him in adoration. 

“My goodness! What an active hole I’ve stumbled upon. Dwarflings running rampage, faunts crying, and no one to offer me tea at the door.”

Everyone looked up to see Gandalf duck into the bedroom. Bungo sucked in a sharp gasp in realizing that he was making a very poor host indeed. 

“That’s right! There’s supper to start and letters to write and...tea! Of course, tea. I’ll be right back, Gandalf!” Bungo declared before nearly running out of the room.

Thrain made his excuses, still chuckling under his breath, to give the two old friends some space. Belladonna merely shot Gandalf a look as she continued trying to rock the still heavily screaming Bilbo.

“Tea, Gandalf? I would think a bit of Shire wine would be more to your liking.”

“Tempt me not, Belladonna Baggins. You know my weakness for such spirits.” He teased.

She huffed a laugh around her attempts at alleviating the continuous screams of the newborn. Reaching out Gandalf let his hand pass over Bilbo’s brow reciting a minor spell to ease the pain. Bilbo tempered some, but stubbornly refused to give up crying altogether.

“My dear fellow, you’ve barely begun to already have so much to complain about in your life.”

Belladonna groaned. “I’m doomed.”

Gandalf released a chuckle of his own. “Well, ‘get back twice what’s been given’ I believe is the saying you hobbits use.”

Belladonna shook her head with light eye roll while Gandalf smoothed Bilbo’s hair until he finally settled down. She looked over the fidgeting bundle with exasperated fondness.

“I suppose you are not just here to give aid to weary mothers with disgruntled faunts.” 

“Well, not just.” Gandalf stated with a twinkle in his eye. “I figured it only fair to offer a blessing onto the first born child of a dear friend.”

Belladonna quirked her head. She knew well that magic was never as whimsical as Gandalf’s fireworks made it seem. If Gandalf was offering this to her child, he must have foreseen great things in his future. Belladonna curled Bilbo tighter into her arms. Greatness was not always a happy verdict. However, she would be a fool to refuse so grand a gift. She nodded her consent to continue. Since this wasn’t a countercurse, Gandalf did not have to take long to prepare his simple blessing. He merely put one hand on Bilbo’s forehead as the words flowed through him.

_“_ Bilbo Baggins, Prince of the Shire, heed well the gifts I offer:

_May your curiosity never waver._

_May courage always be in your favor._

_And whatever your dreams may breach,_

_May you never find them out of reach.”_

Sparkles of magic rained down on Bilbo causing the babe to sneeze before they fizzled out. After finishing the job he set out to accomplish, Gandalf let the rest of his visit pass in good company and good food before disappearing the next morning. Bungo and Belladonna’s family had been notified via mail, and they stopped by sporadically over the next three days to see their grandson/nephew/cousin. The dwarves remained until the end of the week, and though reluctant to see their friends go, the worn hobbit parents were relieved to have their smial to themselves again with one very precious addition.


	4. Chapter 1- The Hobbit's Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo thinks he's going to have a perfectly respectable birthday, and then he stumbles across a dwarf with blue eyes.

Bilbo Baggins was a well-adjusted, well-respected hobbit of the Shire much to the surprise of everyone in Hobbiton. After the tragic loss of his parents fourteen years prior, most were afraid he was going to go bounding off into the wild just like his mother. However, the young Master of Bag End seemed to show no inclination towards traveling whatsoever. A Baggins through and through, that Bilbo was. Or at least that was what was shown on the surface.

The truth was Bilbo missed his parents deeply. For all of Bungo’s respectability, it only took Bilbo’s pleading eyes to get him to pull him away from his study to play the giant game. It only took a small ‘please’ while they were walking through the market for Bungo to sneak him a before-dinner sweet. And on the subject of Belladonna Took...truly his mother’s spirit lived on inside him. He missed her when reading his adventure books, he missed her when out in the garden, he missed her when making her famous oatmeal biscuit recipe. Still for all that his parents could never be replaced, Bilbo was never alone.

It surprised many that the three bachelor sons of The Old Took chose to take the tween in after having been orphaned, especially since none of them knew anything about faunt raising. However, it had been Isengrim to check in with Belladonna and Bilbo after Bungo passed in the Fell Winter. It had been Hildifons to take Bilbo out fishing or making trouble in Farmer Maggot’s fields when Belladonna fell sick and had to undergo painful treatments. And Isengar, the only boy after the three sisters, well it was no secret that he was Belladonna’s favorite brother. It just seemed right amongst the three having no family of their own, that they would become Bilbo’s guardians when the white plague took her in the end. After all, the alternative was him falling to his _Baggins_ relatives, and they would never allow such misfortune to fall upon Belladonna’s only child.

So while many looked on the chaotic household with wary eyes and shaking heads, Bilbo wasn’t quite sure how he would have survived without his dear uncles. Because certainly Bilbo learned how to gamble well before he learned to drink or smoke pipeweed, and entirely too young at that. One could even argue that the future Master of Bag End should’ve learned economics over the alchemic mixture necessary to produce explosives, and that Isengrim, the Crown Prince of the Shire, should’ve known better than to indulge his brother and nephew in such activities. That for all the _Took_ they seemed to be thrusting upon the child, it was a miracle he was as much Baggins as he was.

Then again, no one knew of the wistful looks he had when gazing out his windows. No one knew that his heart leapt when news from the outside world tore through the wagging tongues of the local gossips. No one knew that his dreams at night were filled with a pair of familiar blue eyes he could not recall the owner of and a hall of gold too vast to ever truly be real. And Took or Baggins, they were not about to deter the lad of his imagination. So dream Bilbo did. Those blue eyes became a comfort, and Bilbo found himself building the owner up again and again in his head. Every day he awoke wishing to meet them, and every night he went to sleep slightly discouraged. Then they would return in his unconscious mind, and he would start the process over again.

This morning, however, was special. For today was Bilbo’s thirty-third birthday. A milestone among the hobbits as it marked the age of adulthood. Bilbo was certain there would be a massive celebration at the Party Tree that night with his uncles spending most of the day organizing. So as a special gift, he planned to pick blackberries to make his near award-winning blackberry cobbler. He didn’t bother with a vest or jacket as he grabbed his basket and headed off towards the best thickets. If that happened to take him out of Hobbiton and down to the small grove close to Bywater, well what was a small jaunt on his birthday going to hurt?

As the early sun warmed his face and heart, Bilbo became very pleased with his decision. So much so he started to hum an old fairytale song under his breath as he cut through the forest with the ease of a well-established routine. The blackberries were ripe and juicy, and Bilbo couldn’t help sneaking in a sweet and tart first breakfast as he filled his basket. His thoughts drifted to what sort of trouble his uncles could get into before he was able to meander back, and he found his hands itching for his pipe that wasn’t there. An unfortunate addiction courtesy of his Uncle Hildifons. 

He was sure the party was going to be over the top and bothersome. If it wasn’t for his hobbit sensibilities, he would just have them cancel the silly thing and be done with it. After all, today marked the end of his faunthood, and tomorrow would bring the responsibilities of being Master of the Baggins family and Prince of the Shire, albeit distantly. Many had wondered if Isengrim raising Bilbo would mean adoption thus raising his status to next in line for the Thainhood. However, as far as Bilbo was concerned, Isumbras and Fortinbras, his uncle and cousin respectively next in line after Isengrim, could have it. He had no desire to inherit the responsibility of the entire Shire. His responsibility for the entire Baggins family was already being questioned, no thanks to his cousin Otho of the Sackville-Baggins and his bride to be.

Left to his worries, Bilbo hadn’t noticed that he took a more southern route to his initial trek until he caught sight of a fur-lined traveling cloak swung over one of the branches of the tree in his path. He froze letting silence wash over him. He listened closely for an owner, but aside from a few birds in the trees and rabbits in the bushes, he seemed to be alone. 

Curious now, Bilbo crept forward to inspect the article of clothing only to find a traveler’s pack, a blade resting in its scabbard against the trunk as well as an odd shield that seemed to be made from an oak’s branch. Bilbo’s stomach gave a soft flip. He had a small token sitting on his bedside table that was given to him at birth that his mother had affectionately dubbed “Oakenshield”. Bilbo wasn’t a hundred percent certain, but he always associated it with the blue eyes that haunt his dreams.

His eyes scanned the clearing even more determined to discover the location of its owner as his heart seemed to be racing in his chest. Even though he had no conscious memory of ever meeting this person, he was already captivated. He would never say love for how could you be in love with a figment of your imagination? Still, he felt himself wondering, not for the first time, what they must be like. Did they have a gentle smile to go along with their drowning eyes? Were they shy? How soft was their touch?

Before he could stop himself, Bilbo found himself tracing the soft fur of the cloak. He looked over at their pack curious if the contents inside might tell the story of this mysterious stranger. Though that might be too strong an invasion of privacy. Then again, if the flap just _happened_ to come open to where he could catch a peek inside. 

Bilbo toed his way closer unconsciously clutching the cloak to his figure as he gave a bag a small kick. He frowned when it held tight. Stupid dwarven-made buckles. Maybe he could shake it and hear something to give him a clue. While Bilbo fiddled with the pack, not bringing himself to breach scandal and actually open it, he found himself singing that fairytale rhyme from earlier. 

_“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream…”_

Deeply enthralled in his curiosity, Bilbo did not register the footsteps stomping through the brush from the direction of the stream. The dwarf who had stepped away only for a quick wash was stunned by the sight of the small creature wrapped in his cloak messing with his bag. There was only one logical conclusion he could reach for why anyone would mess with another’s: he means to steal from him.

“Thief!” He shouted.

He grabbed him by the shoulder spinning him around to allow his first real look at him. The hobbit, for that was all he could conclude him to be with the pointed ears and large feet, yelped as he tripped over the ends of the cloak in an effort to get away. The dwarf raised an eyebrow as he took in the dulled bronze curls and awestruck hazel eyes.

“What did you take?” He accused as he crossed his arms menacingly.

“N-Nothing!” The hobbit was quick to deny as he fought his way back to his feet and returned the cloak. “I’m not a thief.”

The dwarf stared him down looking over to his pack that still remained unopened and the basket of berries the smaller being had swinging from his arm. He snorted deeming him harmless enough as he began to strap his sword and shield back to his person. When he turned his back to put on his cloak and gather his pack was when Bilbo felt like he could breathe again.

Trapped in the blue eyes of the dwarf, he could only admire how striking they were against his coal black hair that cascaded down his shoulders and framed his short cropped beard. His heart beat a mile a minute, and he could hardly believe what he was seeing. This dwarf had to be the person who appears night after night to him. And now...now he was walking away.

“Wait!” Bilbo called out as he hurried after him.

The dwarf stopped for a moment giving him an impatient stare.

“I’m truly sorry. I really was not trying to steal from you.”

“Clearly.” He snorted. “You are more grocer than burglar.”

The young hobbit felt his cheeks heat up and frown worked its way onto his face. Still manners dictated that he had been in the wrong with his nosiness. He could forgive the dwarf of his gruff demeanor. Certainly, he wouldn’t want to be pleasant with someone he felt had tried to steal from him.

“Yes, well…” His nose twitched. “I suppose I can see how you drew that conclusion. 

The dwarf didn’t respond as he kept walking forward. He was torn between wanting an interaction with the one person he has longed to meet and leaving him to his business. It was only a moment when the dwarf paused and began casting his eyes about the forest in a confused frustration.

“A-Are you lost?” Bilbo offered.

“I’m not lost!” The dwarf was quick to hiss.

A sore subject for his pride, surely. Bilbo gathered his basket up and forced an encouraging smile.

“Well, I was just headed back to Hobbiton. I wouldn’t mind the company if you wanted to escort me back to the road?”

The dwarf furrowed his brows together in thought before nodding his assent. Bilbo’s grin grew widely as he offered his hand.

“I’m Bilbo.” He stated as he shook the dwarf’s large palm.

“Thorin, son of...just Thorin.”

His hesitation now made sense to Bilbo. He knew well of the dwarrows’ distrust of outsiders, especially of the Fae. The Fall of Erebor was a story his mother had told him many times as a faunt.

“You have no reason to worry. I’m not a Faerie.” Bilbo chuckled.

“I know well what you are, Halfling.”

Bilbo’s feet stopped moving as his heart became coated in ice. This dwarf was not kind, he was not gentle. He was rough, crass, and rude! All the expectations he put upon ever meeting the owner of those wonderful blue eyes fell at the disappointment of reality. Tears welled up, but he stubbornly refused to shed them.

“Well, are you coming?” Came Thorin’s gruff voice as he moved further ahead of Bilbo.

“Now see here!” Bilbo demanded stomping his foot into the ground. “I have been nothing but polite to you, and yet you think you can order me about like some...mongrel!”

“You were rifling through my belongings.” The dwarf shot back.

“And I apologized!” Bilbo snapped.

“Aye, you did.” He nodded matter-of-factly.

Bilbo felt it was only the years of living with Isengar that kept him from shouting back like he desperately wanted to. Instead, he gripped his hair thinking up some very nasty insults himself. He did offer his company though, and he wouldn’t dare turn back on his word. With a quick nod, he led the way again trying to put together the shattered pieces of his disillusion. Thorin gave a huff as if _Bilbo_ were being the difficult one letting a tense silence fall between them.

“I suppose...you have a plan for those blackberries?”

“What?” Bilbo turned to him in confusion before looking down at the basket. “Oh yes, I’m going to make a cobbler.” He answered distractedly.

“Ah. My sister and I have always wondered what is the difference between a cobbler and a pie? After all, they both are made with pastry dough and usually have some sort of fruit filling.”

Bilbo shot him an incredulous look. “I suppose by that logic you could also consider tarts and turnovers the same.”

“Yes! Exactly!”

There was something about his earnest expression that caused Bilbo to snort in laughter despite being very cross with his companion. He responded with a small smirk and a tilt of his head as if he were unsure if Bilbo was laughing at him or with him. The hobbit was still a little upset Thorin had yet to apologize himself, but he could see his pitiful attempts at small talk as the olive branch it was.

“So what brings you down from the mountains and into the Shire, Mister Thorin?” Bilbo asked after a moment.

“My business is my own.” Thorin quipped.

Bilbo lost his spark again, something that was quickly beginning to tear into Thorin for reasons he did not understand.

“But…” He sighed. “I can tell you I’m looking for someone.”

Bilbo perked up once more with pure curiosity and desire to help twinkling behind his forest eyes.

“Oh! I will tell you I feel as though I’m related to half of Hobbiton, so I might be able to lead you further if you had a name.”

“I don’t have a name.” Thorin denied. “I just need someone with a willing heart and an urge to travel.”

“Hmm.” Bilbo hummed in disappointment. “I doubt you’ll find anyone west of Bree who has any desire for adventures.”

Thorin sighed deeply. “Then it seems my errand was a fool’s after all.”

Bilbo felt regret hearing the sad resignation in this dwarf’s voice. In spite of his course nature, he wished desperately that he could help out in some way. He certainly couldn’t run off into the wilderness like a wayward faunt but, there was nothing stopping him from passing on the message to his Took cousins on the off chance they feel the itch for adventure. So lost in thought, Bilbo didn’t even realize they had reached the road until Thorin spoke up.

“I suppose this is where we part.”

Bilbo looked west towards Hobbiton before looking east towards Thorin and the world beyond.

“If I did come across such a hobbit, which direction should I point them?”

Thorin blinked in surprise. “My kin and I are staying at an inn nearby. The Green Dragon. But only until tomorrow morning.”

Bilbo nodded, shaking Thorin’s hand once more. “It was a pleasure meeting you Mister Thorin. I wish you luck in your travels.”

The look of confusion melted into a guarded, small smile.

“You as well. Good luck on your pie, Mister Bilbo.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to correct him but, Thorin had already turned to walk away. Bilbo released a long drawn out sigh. Well, so much for that. Just when he had made peace with his departure, Thorin began to sing. The beautiful lithe of his deep baritone, and the song he chose caused a shy smile to crawl across Bilbo’s face as he hurried back home to his uncles. The lingering lyrics ‘ _the way you did once upon a dream’_ following him all the way.

*** 

“It’s just...did you have to choose red?”

“Hush!” Isengrim spoke around a mouth of pins. “Until I see you taking the time to learn to sew, you’re just going to have to live with my styling choices.”

Hildifons rolled his eyes. Isengrim acted as though he was a master tailor. After Lily Potts made the pattern _and_ the base, Isengrim brought it back to add the cuffs, buttons, and trim. Hildifons was fairly certain he could do that, and it would be a lovely shade of royal blue that would match the lad’s complexion much better than _red._ Instead he was stuck making all of the party favors to be passed out to guests later that night.

“By the way, you do realize that trim is usually used for ladies’ petticoats, right?” Hildifons pointed out.

Isengrim paused as he looked at the coat and then back at the fabric in his hands. Hildifons could see the exact moment he figured it out as he swore under his breath and started ripping it off.

“Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?!”

“I was holding out hope you would ruin it, and I could commission Lily for a new one in blue.”

“She can’t make a brand new coat in the course of a FEW HOURS!”

Hildifons hated to admit it, but he was stumped by that one. Before he could respond, there was a series of small crashes in the kitchen followed by a loud explosion that sounded like it came from the oven.

“It’s okay! Don’t worry about it.” Isengar coughed.

Isengrim only shook his head while Hildifons snickered.

“It was your idea to leave him to the food.” He reminded.

“That’s because your biggest contribution was ale and mead.” Isengrim shot back.

“Bilbo’s an adult now! He deserves a drink.”

“Thirty-three! I can hardly believe it. Where did the time go?” Isengar complained from the kitchen.

“Don’t start, Garry! We’re not going to start crying like a bunch of housewives with an empty nest!” Hildifons snapped already feeling the emotion crawl up his throat.

The other two chuckled as they returned to their tasks. So engrossed they didn’t even notice their charge was returning until they heard his singing from outside the smial. 

“ _The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you’ll do. You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”_

Bilbo shot through the doorway grabbing Hildifons and twirling him around with a dip at the finish.

“Well, you are certainly in a good mood today.” He chuckled.

“Why wouldn’t I be, Uncle Hilde? I’m an adult now.” Bilbo announced proudly returning his uncle upright.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself _Mister_ Baggins.” Hildifons teased with a light shove.

“So where did you run off to?” Isengrim questioned trying to nonchalantly hide the jacket.

“Just out picking blackberries.” Bilbo answered, immediately noticing his movements. “Is that for me?”

Isengrim sighed before holding it out for the lad.

Bilbo awed over the fabric, moving to try it on. “I’ve been needing a new receiving jacket, and this is very nice. The color is just lovely.”

Isengrim shot Hildifons a smug smirk that caused his younger brother to cross his arms with a pout. 

“It’s not quite done, but I thought it would be perfect to wear to the party tonight.” Isengrim stated as he fussed over the fit.

“The party…” Bilbo mused. “Oh! That’s right. Um...maybe, I mean...do we have to have a party?”

The three older hobbits stopped dead in their movements as they just stared at Bilbo with their jaws dropped. Bilbo’s hands went behind his back, and his nose twitched just like when he was younger and about to be scolded.

“Not have a party. What a peculiar thing to say.” Isengrim recovered first.

“It’s just...I thought maybe I would go…out instead.” Bilbo tried to justify.

“There will be plenty of ale at the party if you’re looking for a pint.” Hildifons laughed. 

Isengrim slapped him on the back of the head, and that was the kind of disrespect Hildifons couldn’t take lying down. Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he stepped around his uncles’ petty slap war and approached Isengar. If he wanted something, his Uncle Garry was usually the easiest to manipulate.

“Now where could you possibly be looking to go?” Isengar asked, trying to salvage the cake he was making.

Bilbo gave him an affectionate grin as he picked pieces of dough out of his hair.

“Well...it’s just...I sort of met...somebody.”

“What?” Isengar cried in shock.

“WHAT?!” Hildifons and Isengrim echoed, stopping their fight long enough to listen in.

“N-Not like that...exactly. It’s complicated.” Bilbo tried to explain.

“What happened to the mystery blue eyes?” Isengar prompted, looking white as a sheet.

Hildifons and Isengrim resisted the urge to groan and make snoring noises like they usually did when the “blue eyes” were brought up.

Bilbo felt his cheeks color. “Well, the thing is...I think I met him. I mean, he was quite a bit ruder than I expected. A bit standoffish, a little prideful, but it has to be him!”

Isengrim furrowed his brows in disapproval. Hildifons cocked his head in a vexed manner with tightened fists the moment Bilbo said ‘rude’. Isengar just gave him a pitying smile.

“Bilbo, there’s lots of people in the world with blue eyes.” Isengar gently prodded.

“Yes, I know that.” The younger hobbit snapped. “He just...he knew the song.”

“You mean the song from that fairytale you came in here belting?” Hildifons questioned dryly.

“No! I mean, yes. But...he has an oaken shield.” Bilbo tried to defend himself, easily getting flustered.

His uncles shared an uncomfortable look. That was pretty damning evidence. Every hobbit knew enough to take coincidences for what they were: fate intervening. What made them even more uncomfortable was that it was entirely possible they forgot to mention that he was betrothed to a dwarven prince. Just didn’t seem like the sort of thing to do and crush his little heart when they figured the “blue eyes” thing to be a phase anyways.

“I’m not going to tell him.” Hildifons finally gave in holding his hands up in surrender.

“Tell me what?” Bilbo asked, taking a lemon tart from the counter.

He gave it a small sniff, and then slowly placed it back on the platter as casually as he could.

“Bilbo,” Isengrim began. “You see...well the thing you have to know is…how should I put this?”

“Your mother signed a contract with a dwarven queen before you were born, and now you're engaged to a prince who you’ve actually met once even though you were too young to remember!” Isengar blurted before Isengrim got the chance.

“What?” Bilbo laughed, shaking his head incredulously. “What kind of a prank is that?”

“It’s not a prank.” Isengrim shook his head.

Bilbo snorted, still not willing to believe Isengar’s words. Slowly, his grin started to waver the longer his uncles stood there grim-faced. His eyebrows furrowed, and his nose gave a little twitch. It became apparent the exact moment Bilbo accepted the truth. His jaw tightened, and his eyes met theirs in a searing look that was so Belladonna it hurt.

“That’s not fair.” He complained. “I will have a talk with Grandpap about this when I get to the Party Tree, you can mark my words.”

“Bilbo. It’s a contract.” Hildifons pointed out gently.

All the fight left him in one fell swoop. The tears he fought early came out in full force as he gave his uncles the most betrayed look they had ever seen.

“It’s not fair!” He cried. “I refuse to have my life dictated for me.” He swore darkly before running out of the room.

They all winced at the slam of his bedroom door before reflecting on the melancholy this day turned out.

“You know in retrospect, we probably should have had that talk before the “where baby hobbits come from” one.” Hildifons mused.

“What a helpful contribution to this terrible situation.” Isengrim sniped.

“He’s just a little worked up.” Isengar sighed. “I’m sure he’ll calm down soon. Do you think there’s something wrong with the lemon tarts?”

Hildifons rolled his eyes but proceeded to pick one up and give it a sniff anyways.

“You mixed up sugar and salt again.” He stated.

Isengar swore under his breath while Isengrim just shot them an incredulous look.

“How can you guys worry about lemon tarts right now?”

They both shrugged.

“So...we shouldn’t keep preparing for the party?” Isengar asked hesitantly.

Isengrim paused. No, they definitely should still be working on the party. It was just hard to think about with Bilbo so upset, but maybe Garry was right. Maybe he just needed a little space. With that, the three went back to their tasks with much less enthusiasm. Isengrim took over in the kitchen, Isengar moved over to the party favors, and Hildifons was tasked with surveying the decorations down by the Party Tree. Bilbo did not emerge throughout the day leaving them to stare forlorn at his basket of berries.

Isengar left platters of food outside his door as he missed second breakfast, elevensies, and lunch. However, Bilbo refused to open up or even speak to them. Finally, as the sun began to sink low in the sky, they knew they could not afford to avoid this issue any longer. Isengrim knocked on his door before opening it up and forcing his way inside. Only there was no Bilbo to be found.

His room seemed to have been torn apart as if he had been looking for something in a hurry. His window was open, and his Oakenshield was gone leaving a letter behind in its place with Isengrim, Hildifons, and Isengar’s names in Bilbo’s striking handwriting. Isengrim felt his stomach drop as he called out to the other two. The note was short and to the point.

_My dear uncles,_

_I see the path before me more visually than ever before. Seeing the blue eyed dwarf today was a sign indeed. I’m going off on an adventure. Please take care of Bag End for my return, and know that in regards to our spat in the kitchen, I don’t blame you._

_All my love,_

_Bilbo_

“Where could he have gone?” Hildifons raged stomping out of the room.

“I don’t know, but he can’t have gotten too far.” Isengrim took charge grabbing their jackets and heading for the front door. “I’ll go south to Tuckborough, Hilde will go east to Buckland, and Garry will take Michel Delving in the west. Hopefully, nothing has tempted him north through the Bindbole Woods, and we will get him back before it gets too late.”

“Shouldn’t we enlist more help?” Isengar fidgeted.

“Good idea.” Hildifons drawled sarcastically. “You go down to the Party Tree and let Pa know we lost Belladonna’s son.”

A shiver ran down Isengar’s body despite their father being almost one hundred at this point. He needed no more encouragement at that point barely registering to lock up before tearing off into the night to bring their young ward back. A Baggins through and through indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fifth Unnegotiable Law of the Fae: The right to Dream is to be respected in all beings.
> 
> A bit of a self-promo: This is the week leading up to my birthday and so I decided to post drabble/starters from some of my works I’ve kept socked away on my [tumblr page](https://sunnyrosewritesstuff.tumblr.com/). Feel free to check it out if you’ve enjoyed my writing so far. I’ll be posting a new short story on Sunday titled: Guardian of Kings. Thanks for the kudos, comments, subs, and bookmarks so far. 
> 
> -Sunny


	5. Chapter 2- The Drunk's Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's friends are committed to helping Bilbo out on his adventure, but only after a pint...or four.

When Bilbo marched off to the sanctuary of his bedroom he spent the next two hours thrown on his bed sulking, crying, and indulging in self-pity. Isengar had come by with second breakfast and elevensies at that point, but Bilbo wasn’t hungry. He was in the mood to lay there and waste away. Then he turned on his side and saw his Oakenshield. A sight that filled him with...unbelievable anger.

His mother filled his head with stories of true love, destiny, that he was always cherished, and always protected all the while hiding a stupid marriage contract behind his back. Why didn’t she just tell him? What exactly was her reasoning? And why him specifically? He had so many cousins that were lesser Took princes and princesses just like him. What was special about the firstborn of the ninth child of the Thain?

Bilbo jumped out of bed pacing the floors of his bedroom. To top it all off, the person he’s been dreaming about, romanticizing in his head, was just a grumpy old dwarf with deplorable manners and a bad attitude towards helpful hobbits. He buried his head in his hands, gripping his hair tightly. Some birthday this day turned out to be. His eyes cut to his window where he could already hear his uncles coming and going to the Party Tree and making small talk along the way. 

He wanted so desperately to be upset with them, but this wasn’t their fault. Had he been in their position, he wasn’t sure he would have handled it any better. He just rather wished he could have remained blissfully naive a little longer. He would have taken Adlar or Siggy down to the Green Dragon and introduced them to the dwarf just to feel less like a disappointment. Even if neither decided to go, which he couldn’t have seen them going anyways, he would have followed through and proved his worth. It was a bit disconcerting how much he craved Thorin’s approval, but he decided not to dwell on that point. 

So the way he saw it, he would have to go down to the Party Tree, pretending all was right in the world. He would probably pull his grandfather aside to discuss the contract in more detail, and then being the perfectly proper prince that he was meant to be, would write to this dwarven prince to ask for an audience now that he was of age. Of course, Isengrim didn’t mention anything about a time limit and clearly had no plans to tell him of the contract today, so he supposed he was in no rush on that front.

That’s when it hit Bilbo. He was under no obligation to fulfill his contract right away. Now, he was by no means a Breaker, but he could postpone that meeting. In fact, in theory, if he were unavailable due to aiding his soon-to-be fellow dwarrows on some sort of quest…

Bilbo dove under his bed wrangling out his mother’s old traveling pack. He gleefully pulled open drawers and his wardrobe as he stuffed it full of anything and everything he thought he would need. Traveling clothes, maps, a hunting knife, his pipe, a sleeping roll, and onward until the pack was nearly bulging. The last thing he grabbed was his Oakenshield. He let his thumb brush the dwarven rune before shoving it into his pocket with finality. This was the right thing. Meeting his “blue eyes” was a sign.

The last thing he did was write his dear uncles a small note to ease his guilt of leaving them so abruptly. He really did feel terrible about how he was leaving them, but he knew that Isengrim would do everything in his power to talk him out of this. Hildifons would probably insist upon coming along only to baby him the entire journey. And poor Isengar would blame himself as if Bilbo’s wanting to leave was his fault. No, as much as it hurt, he was doing the right thing. He was incredibly thankful that he didn’t spill where exactly he was going. 

Feeling resolute in his decision, Bilbo straightened out his new red coat as he opened up his window to slip out. He checked that there were no comings and goings down the lane as he pushed and wriggled his body through the small opening, regretting slightly that he didn’t take off his pack and slide it through first. When he finally managed to worm his way out, he landed on his side in an undignified heap in the dirt. Quickly, pulling himself up and casually brushing his pants off, he looked around to see if anyone noticed. Satisfied he got away clean, he snuck around the back free of any windows, and took off running down the hill as fast as he could.

He got all the way to the water’s edge before he allowed himself to slow down. There, now he was far enough out of the way of Hobbiton that he could just follow the stream south to Bywater, and he would be at the Green Dragon before anyone realized he was gone. He gave a short nod, pleased with his daring escape when a voice rang out.

“And just where are you off to?”

Bilbo gave a jump in fright before spinning around coming face to face with his three best friends. Adalgrim, or Adlar to him, was about the only elder Took cousin Bilbo could stand. Sigismond, or Siggy Took, was exactly two months younger than Bilbo, and they were as thick as thieves. Hobson “Roper” Gamgee, was not related to Bilbo, which was a positive in his opinion, but just as devoted to him as if they were family. Adlar was grinning wildly, Siggy held his stare with a raised eyebrow, and Roper just wrung his fingers together for a lack of anything else to do with them.

“So where are you off to on this fine afternoon, _Mister_ Baggins?” Adlar questioned again as he began to circle him.

“A stroll.” He answered clipped as sweat began to drip down the back of his neck.

“A stroll leading where exactly?” Siggy pressed joining in Adlar his circling.

“South.” Bilbo barked.

“And just why exactly does a stroll leading south require such luggage?” Adlar inquired as he played with the strap on Bilbo’s pack.

“Okay, fine!” He snapped pushing away from his curious cousins. “I’m going on an adventure.”

“An adventure?!” The three gasped in varying degrees of excitement, surprise, and worry.

“What kind of an adventure requires you to sneak out your bedroom window?” Roper demanded aghast.

“Wait. You saw?” Bilbo pouted.

“Of course, we saw. It was about the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.” Adlar teased.

“We were going to fetch you to have a pint with us before the big party.” Siggy began clearly begging for the rest of the story.

Bilbo hesitated. He really didn’t want to get found out already, and he would never put his friends in a position to Lie for him. 

“It’s just...I don’t want my uncles to know just yet.” He told them with no small amount of uncertainty.

“Well begging your pardon, Mister Bilbo, but standing here in the view of the road won’t help that none.” Roper pointed out.

Bilbo fought against it, but Roper managed to wrangle a small smile and a sigh out of him.

“Very well. Would you fine gents care to escort me to the Green Dragon?” Bilbo asked with no small amount of pomp and mock bowing.

“We would be delighted Mister Baggins.” Siggy answered in the same manner before hooking Bilbo’s arm tight in his.

Adlar gave the both of them a hard shove before taking off running in fear of retaliation. Siggy caught up and launched himself onto Adlar’s back causing the both of them to fall in a pile of tangled limbs leading to much mirth and howling all around. If their goal had been stealth, they were failing miserably, but Bilbo had the sobering realization that this could be his last chance to act like a complete imbecile with his mates for months, possibly years, to come.

After that, Bilbo began to tell them of his day from meeting the dwarf with the “blue eyes”, where he endured their groans, to his fight with his uncles about his secret marriage contract. By the time he finished, the inn was just coming into view, and Bilbo stopped knowing he couldn’t allow his friends to go any further.

“So you’re just going to take off after a company of dwarves into the wild while all of your friends and family are waiting and expecting you to show up for your coming of age party?” Adlar questioned. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Yes.” Bilbo answered. “Which is why you guys have to go back and cover for me.”

“No way.” Siggy denied. “I’m not missing out on meeting the “blue eyes” that have nearly forced me to expel lunch on way too many occasions.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Yes, you are. Eventually, my uncles are going to come looking for me, and you…”

“Are coming in to cover for you.” Adlar cut him off mid-rant.

Bilbo shook his head adamantly. “Don’t become Liars for me.” He practically begged.

Roper scoffed. “If we could convince Farmer Maggot that you weren’t the one to make off with his award-winning pumpkin during the Harvest Festival without Lying, I think we can handle your uncles.”

“Roper has a point.” Siggy grinned wrapping his hand around Bilbo’s shoulders. “Besides who do you trust more to cover for you: us or Ol’ Agil Twofoot.”

Bilbo frowned realizing that was a solid point. Actually, now that it was being pointed out to him, how did he expect to escape the notice of all the staff and patrons alike who would most definitely know him by name? Bilbo’s non-answer seemed to be all the encouragement they needed as Adlar and Roper strode forward towards the inn, and Siggy patted his back before following. He could just walk away right now, and none would be the wiser. His eyes darted up the road to Hobbiton before he put on a rather sullen expression and followed after his friends.

“Ack! Tooks in my pub! Hobson, how have you not cleaned your hands of this lot yet?”

“How else am I to get a story to impress the fine lasses of your establishment?” Roper jeered back.

Agil let out a deep bellowing laugh as Bilbo came around to see his friends standing before the innkeeper looking vaguely put out and exasperated. His eyes glittered with surprise when they came to rest upon Bilbo.

“Well if it isn’t the young Master of Bag End himself. Don’t you have a party to get to, lad?” He inquired running a hand down his dark mutton chops.

Bilbo opened his mouth to speak, but Adlar beat him to it putting his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder in a show of support.

“You know how my cousin is with parties, Mister Twofoot.”

“Aye, we thought to bring him down for a draft of your liquid courage before sending him back to the wolves.” Siggy added.

Agil released another round of his strong chortles nodding along.

“Mighty fine indeed. You boys just don’t overstay your welcome! I’ll not be dealing with charred furniture this time around!”

“Of course, Sir. We’ll just find a nice quiet spot in the back.” Roper eased, taking the lead and dragging Bilbo in after him.

“And if any more Tooks come around asking for Bilbo, could you just send them our way?” Adlar asked the innkeeper.

“Didn’t tell old Isam what you were planning beforehand?” Agil insinuated.

“Planned?” Siggy gasped. “How dare you accuse us of having any forethought.”

“Then you may want to take the table by the window to shove poor Bilbo out of when he comes round asking.” Agil winked before walking off with another set of hearty chuckles.

Adlar and Roper were trying to keep their snickers contained as Agil would have no idea why they found the idea of Bilbo climbing out a window particularly funny. Bilbo was stuck between glaring at the two, and trying to pull his hand out of Siggy’s grip as he pulled him nearly around the whole length of the pub before settling on a spot. The four found a place out of the immediate view of the entrance and scampered into their seats with Bilbo staring at them in barely restrained fury.

“I thought you were going to sneak me in, not announce me to the entire bloody bar!”

“We never used the word ‘sneak’.” Adlar pointed out while signaling the barmaid for four pints.

“Besides, the best place to hide something is in plain view.” Siggy argued.

“What is your plan when Uncle Isam comes barreling in here?” Bilbo asked.

“Just leave that to us.” Adlar winked.

Bilbo shook his head trying to reign in his overactive imagination and all the ways this adventure was going to go wrong before he even got started.

“So where exactly are these dwarves of yours?” Roper asked Bilbo.

That’s right. He came here for a reason. Bilbo perked up and looked around, but besides the occasional ranger or man of Bree, there were naught but hobbits.

“Did you say something about dwarves?” Poppy asked, carrying over their drinks.

Poppy Twofoot was a rather pretty lass with her auburn ringlets framing moss green eyes. A fact that Siggy found especially intriguing, more so with a few pints in him. Despite acting aloof to this fact, Poppy never failed to be the one to wait on them when they came.

“Yeah, heard there were a few out and about today. Know anything?” Siggy leaned forward with a flirty smile.

Poppy looked back and forth as if to make sure their conversation wouldn’t be overheard before hiding her face behind her tray.

“They rented out the back room from Pa. Real secretive that lot. Didn’t want him to tell no one.”

They thanked Poppy for the ale and the information as they collectively looked in the direction of where the dwarrows were probably meeting at that very moment.

“Should we just knock on the door then?” Siggy questioned after taking a sip.

Bilbo contemplated it before shaking his head. “No, I doubt they’ll hide away their entire stay.”

“What makes you so certain?” Roper asked.

“Because...why would he send me here if he wasn’t expecting to receive company?”

“No, you’re right.” Adlar raised his eyebrows. “From your accounts earlier, this Thorin seems to be in the pentacle of good manners, and would know all about the receiving customs of hobbits.”

Bilbo shot his older cousin a dirty look before twitching his nose and swallowing down a large mouthful of ale.

“Well we certainly don’t have to act rashly. We have all night.” Bilbo pointed out.

Everyone agreed with that sentiment as they dumped back their first pints and signaled Poppy for another round. The second round passed slower due to the jabs and crude jokes shared by the group, as did the third. When Roper was asking for a fourth set, Bilbo came to an important realization. He had not eaten anything besides the berries he picked from the branch so long ago. While he wasn’t hungry, he did accept the fact that he could quite possibly be drunk already. He started pressing down on his nose laughing at the numbed nerves. Yep, definitely drunk.

“Already?” Siggy asked, recognizing Bilbo’s tell.

“Haven’t eaten today.” Bilbo slurred.

“Breakfast, elevensies, lunch, supper?” Adlar cried in dismay.

“Nope!” Bilbo cheered making sure to pop the ‘p’.

Roper immediately called Poppy back over to order Bilbo whatever was being served from the kitchen that night. Bilbo didn’t want food though. He wanted his dwarf. His handsome, rude, breathtaking, annoying dwarf. Bilbo slapped his hands down on the table with the finality of his decision.

“I don’ know WHAT they’re talkin’ bout. But I need in there.” He demanded.

“In where?” Siggy grinned loving drunk Bilbo.

“In...in the dwarf room, of course!”

“Okay, take it easy. Not that long ago, you were saying that we should wait for them to come to us.” Adlar reminded.

“No! NO! I don’t want that!” Bilbo complained loudly.

The three were trying to shush him while laughing noticing Agil poke his head in to laugh at Bilbo as well. However, then he pointed his finger around the corner as if directing someone.

“By the Lady’s green gardens!” Adlar cursed. “Get Bilbo under the table.”

Siggy and Roper managed to push the still complaining hobbit under them and shush him just as Hildifons came into sight. Siggy and Adlar felt the sweat drip down the back of their necks. Isam was a formidable foe, but they had been confident in throwing him off the scent. Hilde was an entirely different story. He was the one to teach them their tricks after all, and suddenly it seemed that protecting their cousin _and_ remaining Unbreakable was a colossal challenge.

“Where is he?” Hilde snapped, his eyes glittering with barely concealed anger as soon as he reached their table.

“Where is who, Uncle Hilde?” Adlar played innocent.

“Yeah, we know a lot of people. You’ll have to be more specific.” Siggy joined sipping from his pint.

“Cut the horseshit!” Hildifons demanded bringing his fist down on the table. “Agil says you’ve been with Bilbo, and I want to know where.”

“Well...we did see him up by the Hill.” Adlar answered.

“And?” Hildifons pressed.

“He said he was headed south.”

“South?” He repeated dumbfounded.

All three nodded.

“What else did he say?”

“Said he was going on an adventure.” Roper added solemnly.

“About _where_ he was going?” Hildifons raged.

“To find the dwarves.” Siggy replied.

Hildifons looked five seconds away from pulling the three of them off by the ears to their mother so Adlar played about the only card he had left.

“Is Bilbo really trapped in an arranged marriage?”

All of the fight seemed to leave Hildifons as he stared at them forlorn. He seemed about to respond before he just heaved a sigh and gave a sharp nod.

“Look, I know you guys know more than you’re telling, and I’m not going to push you into selling out your friend. But can you just let him know that...we’re worried? He can still be mad at us, but we just want him to come home.”

A bit shocked at the fairly emotional display from their usually happy-go-lucky uncle, the Tooks couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty, and Roper looked beside himself with the need to point under the table. Instead, they promised “if they saw Bilbo again” they would repeat what he said. With that Hildifons turned and walked away, rejection in his every step.

“I don’t know Bilbo. Maybe you should go back and talk this through with them. Hilde looked pretty upset.” Adlar murmured under the table.

He waited for a response. And waited. And waited. He very slowly turned to the other two as they all had the same thought. It was way too quiet under that table for Drunk Bilbo. They peered underneath only to jerk up out of their seats. He was gone. His pack was missing as well. Before they could start to panic, they almost simultaneously realized where he would be.

“THE BACK ROOM!” They cried in unison as they clambered over each other to be the first to get there.

***

Meanwhile, Bilbo had felt his instincts kick in the moment he realized it was Hildifons in front of their table. He started scurrying back and away without anyone being the wiser. He congratulated himself on this fact with a slap to his own back as he headed to the back room.

Dwarrows. He had to meet the dwarrows right now. Damn their secret meeting! Thorin did invite Bilbo after all. Blue eyed Thorin, his Oakenshield. How could someone look the way he did and still be such a cock? This wasn’t a question he realized he had asked aloud until he caught a raised eyebrow from the table nearest to him. Actually, that might be because he was still on his hands and knees. Maybe he should stand up. Nope! The room definitely did not like that.

His head felt funny. He might throw up. Wait...Thorin. He was so close to the door, and with no forethought to what he would say or do, he burst forth into the room. 

“Unless, we can find a hobbit ready to join us, we’re sunk.”

“I told you. I already tried. They don’t leave their _precious_ Shire for anything!”

“Hey! There’s one now!”

He had something very clever on the tip of his tongue, but a quick assessment told him there were a lot more dwarrows than he thought there would be. And they had all of a sudden got dead quiet and were all looking straight at him. There was something else that was very apparent to him.

“Has anyone told-sold-told you lot that you...have very im-fressive beards.”

Roaring laughter broke out at this, and Bilbo took this as a good sign to proceed into the room.

“Had a little too much ale, lad?”

“Are you lost, Master Hobbit?”

“I’m not lost.” Bilbo chided the talking mustache beard. “I know exactly what...I’m doing. I’m here for an adver-adverb-adventure! That’s it! Advent-ature!”

There was more laughter at this with some egging him on. Bilbo decided he liked these beards, but he was looking for something. No, someone. No, something, blue eyes! That’s it! He was looking for blue eyes, and he found it right at the end of the table. He ran forward only to trip and almost fall before he got there. Stupid jumping flagstones.

“Mister Thorin!” He greeted with a large grin.

The dwarf in question raised an eyebrow over those stunning blue eyes.

“Mister...Billy?” He returned.

Bilbo frowned as his heart began to hurt. Did Thorin not even remember his name?

“You know this hobbit?” One of the large beards...goodness! When did it get so tall? 

“This is the burglar I met this morning.” Thorin snorted in amusement.

“Bilbo…” He paused only just remembering Thorin didn’t like to give his full name. “Just Bilbo, at your service.” He declared with a bow. One that ended with him on his butt.

Now Tall Beard was really tall.

“Are you okay?” Bilbo questioned in worry.

Tall Beard snickered before helping him back to his feet and sitting back down. He was still Tall Beard.

“Mister Bilbo…” Thorin sighed pinching his nose.

Bilbo bounced his way over to his side looking up at Thorin hopefully. He grasped Thorin by the face surprising all including Thorin as a very red blush appeared under his blue eyes. Whistles and gasping giggles went up causing Thorin to glare at the offender before turning to Bilbo with a burning gaze.

“I suggest you release me...now.” He demanded.

“But I have to tell you something.” Bilbo whispered, keeping his hold on Thorin’s face.

“What?” He hissed.

“You’re my Oakenshield.”

“What?!” He cried again pulling back causing Bilbo to fall...again. “Will somebody do something to get him out of here?” He demanded the table.

“No wait!” Bilbo cried aghast as he jumped to his feet. “You need me!”

“I can assure you, Master Hobbit, that I absolutely _do not_!” Thorin insinuated his words like ice.

“But…” Bilbo’s eyes were watering. “You were looking for a hobbit to join. You in-fired, expired…”

“Inspired?” Grandpap Beard prompted with a grin.

“Insp-red me!” Bilbo repeated confidently. “I am ready to take back my life! My Took blood is boobling hard!”

Grandpap Beard stared in surprise. “You’re a Took?”

“Yep!” Bilbo proclaimed at the same time Thorin complained.

“By Mahal’s Forge! What cruel twist of fate is this?”

Grandpap Beard looked over at Thorin with a raised brow. “This may be our only chance.”

Thorin groaned his face stuffed in his hands. “Just give him the damn contract.” 

Bilbo wanted to cry again. Why was he hiding his blue eyes? Hello, what’s this now?

“It’s just the basics with a journey of this size.” Grandpap Beard explained.

Bilbo gave a whistle of appreciation as the contract unrolled to be nearly as tall as him. Grandpap Beard was still talking, but it just sounded like noise to Bilbo as he tried to make sense of the paper in front of him. Wait...was that part even in Westron? He nodded along as if he understood everything being said to him.

“Questions?” Grandpap Beard asked after he finished.

“Just one.” Bilbo held up his hand. “Well maybe two. Where are we going and what are we doing?”

Groans went up around the room.

“Thorin, please tell me the jest is over. Him? Really?”

Before Thorin could answer Short Beard, the door slammed open once more as three hobbits came sprinting into the room.

“BILBO NO!!”

“I did it!” The little hobbit cheered holding the end of the contract and a quill he retrieved from who knew where.

With that firm declaration, he promptly passed out with the contract fluttering to lay on his chest.

“Well, we have our hobbit.”

Thorin glared at his friend before getting up and heading up to his room. His only wish being that he could go to sleep and find this whole thing to be a some hallucinogenic nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third Unnegotiable Law of the Fae: You can never lie to another living being.


	6. Chapter 3- The Company's Hobbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally...we're off!

Bilbo had no idea what hurt more. His head or his stomach. He thought he was hungry, but then he moved and his head was threatening to split open. He groaned thinking one of the many swears every hobbit tween did at one point in their life: _I will never drink again._

“Aw, is little Bilbo awake? Are you ready to maybe talk about the stupid, ridiculous, VALAR BE DAMNED THING YOU’VE DONE?!”

Bilbo sat up wincing as his head pounded and his stomach flipped threatening to spill what little bile remained. He blinked up at his cousin from his spot on the bed having never seen Adlar so angry. His eyebrows furrowed as he noticed it wasn’t just him. Roper’s face was chalk white, and Siggy looked torn between being mortified and just as pissed as Adlar.

“Why are you shouting at me?” He complained. “Wait, where are we?”

“Still at the Green Dragon!” Adlar exploded, throwing his arms in the air, the document in his hand trailing after like a streamer.

Bilbo tried to process this as he searched the small room they were in for familiarity. They must be in one of the rented rooms with the bed he was on, the small vanity, and desk in the corner. It was odd because usually Bilbo and his friends just went back to their smials to sleep off their hangovers after a night out. His head pounded with every thought that pushed towards discovering why they paid Ol’ Agil for a room, and that’s when he remembered his purpose in being there.

“Thorin?” He questioned looking around as if the dwarf would magically appear.

“Yep. Met him. He was as much a delight as you painted him to be.” Adlar continued to lecture.

Bilbo flinched, an action that had disastrous reactions on his miserable state. He rolled himself into a ball on the sheets, closing his eyes against the light and noise until his stomach decided to settle again. He heard a gurgle from down low, and couldn’t understand how he could be sick and hungry at the same time. Roper took pity on him at that point giving him a glass of water and a loaf of bread before placing himself next to the hobbit. His hand patted Bilbo’s back awkwardly.

“Bilbo...something happened.”

Bilbo quirked an eyebrow as he slowly reached out for the meager meal. He sipped slowly, and when he didn’t seem to be in danger of spitting it back up, tore a small piece of bread off for himself. Before he could question the exact drunken shengagian he got up to, there was a knock on the door.

“Open. Now.”

Bilbo felt himself choke as he heard Hildifons’ voice on the other side. He sat up glaring at Adlar who returned it as he went to answer the door. He turned his betrayed gaze onto Siggy who looked beside himself.

“You didn’t give us a choice! You signed a contract.” He hissed.

Bilbo froze. He did what? Hildifons gave him a single look before turning away with his arms crossed. Isam came in next. His reading glasses were perched on the end of his nose muttering to himself as he read through the document Adlar had previously had in his possession. Garry brought up the rear giving Bilbo a flat look.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Bilbo nodded his head, his throat too tight to speak as shame from his actions burned deep. Garry gave him a nod in return before heaving a sigh and running his hands through his hair.

“Thank you for your help, boys. Why don’t you wait downstairs. We need a minute, _alone._ ”

Roper, Siggy, and Adlar quickly crossed the room at Isengar’s order. Bilbo tried to give them a pleading look, but they all knew that if Garry was mad, they would definitely not want to be there. Bilbo set the glass and bread down beside him. His eyes were focused on the wooden floor below him, and he absolutely refused to look his uncles in the eyes.

“All the stars in Yavanna’s Garden.” Isam swore. “Well, this is quite a mess you’ve gotten yourself in, Bilbo. I don’t know how much you’ve read of this before you slapped your name on it, but from the boys’ account it can't have been much, if any. This is an actual passage in the damn thing ‘ _Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including but not limited to lacerations, evisceration, incineration_ ’...do you understand Bilbo? This isn’t a holiday to Bree. If you get hurt on this accursed quest, THEY WON’T HELP YOU!” 

Bilbo’s head pounded in protest of the screaming. Why were people screaming at him today anyways? His usual hangovers consisted of sleeping til noon when Garry would finally bring him breakfast in bed to coax him up. Then Hilde would tease him, and Isam would sigh, but they would both speak kindly. In retrospect, he didn’t usually run away prior to getting sloppily drunk, but he still wouldn’t have thought of his uncles as overbearing mother hens. That had never been their relationship.

“It didn’t say they wouldn’t help me, just that they aren’t accountable for injury.” Bilbo snarked.

“No.” Hildifons stepped in finally spinning back around to glare at him. “You don’t get to talk back today. You get to sit there and take everything that’s coming to you. What kind of idiot do you have to be to sign a contract you DIDN’T read while inebriated because you were ANGRY at not getting treated like an adult?! HOW DO YOU EXPECT US TO REACT WHEN YOU PULL SHIT LIKE THIS BILBO?!”

Bilbo’s jaw nearly dropped. They were still yelling, and now Hildifons, of all people, was lecturing him?!

“I was angry that I woke up with the world before me, and was told there was actually a secret predestined plan I was to adhere to.” Bilbo jumped up to defend.

“I already told you to button up.” Hildifons growled staring him down. 

Bilbo felt the twist deep in his chest, and he was ready to push just how far his uncle was willing to take it when Garry stepped in.

“Bilbo, do you understand how serious this is? Are you aware that we can’t protect you from this? You just signed away your future to a quest you don’t understand, with a very real possibility of death before you get there. Do you get that?” 

It was too much. It was all too much. The yelling, the emotions, the swirling in his gut. However, before he could get his bearings, his mouth ran away before his head could catch up, and he never wished more that he could eat his words.

“I don’t need you all to protect me! I would have been just fine on my own, and I certainly don’t need nursemaids anymore to check and make sure I’ve wiped!”

Silence settled heavy in the room, and Bilbo felt like he had just dunked his head in the Brandywine in the middle of winter when he finally looked up into his uncles’ eyes. Isengar wouldn’t look at him, Isengrim’s eyes were full of shock and betrayal, but perhaps worse was the utter heartbreak on Hildifons face.

“Wait. I didn’t mean…”

“You heard Mister Baggins.” Hildifons interrupted, yanking the contract out of Isengrim’s hands.

He shoved it straight into Bilbo’s chest causing him to stumble a little. Then he moved towards the door.

“Hilde…” Isengrim tried to stop him.

“No! He’s an adult, and he’s made it very clear he’s not our responsibility. Let him lie in the bed he’s made. I’m going home. It’s been a long night.”

With that Hildifons slammed the door behind him. Isengrim turned to Bilbo ready to say something when he heaved a huge sigh and with a shake of his head, he followed his brother’s example and left Bilbo as well. He turned pleading eyes on Isengar who still hadn’t quite been able to look him in the eye. When he finally lifted his head, the sheer disappointment was enough to cut Bilbo’s heart in half.

“Uncle Garry.” He breathed, wanting the older hobbit to tell him it was all going to be okay.

Isengar gave him a shake of his head with a bitter smile.

“Words hurt, Bilbo. Hildifons is right. If you want so badly to be an adult, then you take care of this. And when you’re ready to apologize, you know where in Tuckborough to find us.”

After he left, Bilbo crashed to the ground and buried his head into his knees. He was having the worst hangover _ever._ It took a few moments for him to catch up to the fact that Isengar said Tuckborough and not Bag End. He was truly and completely alone now.

Then a knock sounded on the door. Bilbo stumbled to his feet, almost running into the bed in his haste to answer. He didn’t even care if it was Hildifons back to scream at him some more. He opened the door to a dwarf about his size with a flowing, curly white beard.

“G-Good morning.” Bilbo greeted trying not to sound out of breath.

“Yes, it is.” The dwarf remarked with a twinkle in his eyes. “We were wondering when you would be ready to depart, Mister Bilbo?”

“I’m sorry?” Bilbo questioned, giving the dwarf an odd look.

“Apology accepted, laddie. We were hoping to leave before midmorning though, if it’s all the same to you and pending your...family matters were sorted.”

Bilbo closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as his sluggish mind worked through what exactly this dwarf was telling him. Quest, yes, that must be what this is about.

“Uh, right.” He stated flatly looking back into the room where his pack sat all ready to go. “I’ll just...gather my things…”

The dwarf took pity on him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright, laddie?”

“Yes, of course. I did sign the...c-contract after all.” Bilbo’s voice most definitely did not _break_ on ‘contract’ like a fauntling.

The dwarf with the white beard wasn’t as impressed. “Mister Bilbo, forgive me for being impertinent, but might I ask you a couple of blunt questions?”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, but nodded his consent.

“Are you of age?”

Bilbo blinked before he slowly nodded. The dwarf merely stared at him unimpressed. Bilbo cleared his throat as he felt his cheeks color knowing what it must have looked like to have his three uncles barge in on him this morning.

“Truth be told, Master Dwarf, I may have become of age only yesterday, but I am by the Shire’s reckoning, an adult.”

A grin spread across the other’s face as he nodded his understanding. 

“Well that explains the drinking then. One more if you may, you signed the contract as a Mister...Boggins, but you said last night that you were a Took. Are you?”

Bilbo looked down at where the dwarf was pointing at his abysmal signature, seeing very easily how he was mistaken as ‘Boggins’ rather than ‘Baggins’.

“Does my being a Took matter that much to this company?” Bilbo returned.

The dwarf nodded. “It matters a great deal. If you’re not, we’ll have to absolve you of the contract immediately.”

Finally, the answer to all his problems. For telling the truth was a very finicky thing in this situation. Bilbo could easily say that he was not a Took because there it was in writing that his family name was Baggins. Had the dwarf asked if Bilbo had Took blood, well that would have been a different story. With a single sentence, the dwarf handed Bilbo an escape route on a golden dinner platter. He would be released from the contract, he would go back up to his smial, sleep off the remainder of his hangover, and then the real work would begin. 

He would become the official Master of Bag End, and would have to begin his reign by writing hundreds of apologies to all of his guests and family for not attending the party the previous evening. More than likely, his uncles would forgive him, but he would go from seeing them everyday to casual family gatherings like the rest of his relatives. His Baggins relatives, who lived closer, would fill the void instead and insist that he take care of the marriage contract immediately. They didn’t like putting off tomorrow what could be taken care of today. 

So Bilbo would be introduced to his prince, and they would settle Bilbo’s affairs and more than likely move him into the Blue Mountains for he doubted he would retain the freedom to continue living in the Shire. That would be the end of his familiar comforts, his dreams, his independence.

“I am a Took, on my mother’s side.” He clarified.

The dwarf nodded in satisfaction. “Well then, welcome to the Company, Mister Boggins! As soon as you’re ready, meet me downstairs, and we’ll get you introduced properly to everyone.”

“Thank you, Mister…?”

“Balin.” The dwarf answered with a grin. “I certainly prefer it to Grandpap Beard.

Bilbo grinned to be polite as the dwarf pat him on the shoulder not quite understanding the joke. He left Bilbo at that with a shout of ‘no more than an hour’ over his shoulder. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that Bilbo realized he forgot to correct him on his family name. Oh well, plenty of time on the road for that, he was sure. Bilbo closed the door again and settled on the bed with the contract. He read through it thoroughly, as he should have done the previous night to get an idea of just what standard he was being held.

Erebor. A burst of memories of his mother’s adventure stories swept him up, and he found himself frowning at the parchment. What exactly were a small group of dwarrows hoping to accomplish in that cursed kingdom? As he read more, he felt his heart plummet. When he decided he was going to meet Thorin yesterday, he assumed this journey was some great and noble quest. They were nothing more than treasure seekers. Well if they were going to be ignorant, then they deserved as much cursed gold as they could carry. He, on the other hand, would not be touching a single coin even if _‘for your offer of professional assistance, our grateful acceptance and terms are cash on delivery, up to and not exceeding one tenth of total profits (if any)’._

No, really his part was fairly easy in this whole thing. He just had to stay alive, and manage to take some vague gem they kept mentioning from Erebor’s vault. Now, the contract did outline that it was his responsibility to somehow open the magically sealed vault and take care of any traps or tricks intended to cause the company harm. Still, for a contract he signed while drunk of his arse, it could have been a lot worse. 

With a sigh, he rolled it up and stuck it in the deep folds of his pack. He stared at the worn burlap thinking about how a little under twenty hours ago, he was so excited to get to this point. Now, he could hardly get his feet to move. Bilbo moved his hands through his hair in an attempt to flatten his erratic curls, swept his foot hair all in the correct direction, and straightened out his red jacket. Without further ado, he shouldered his pack and trudged downstairs to meet with the dwarrows.

Ol’ Agil gave him a worried look, but Bilbo was quick to reassure him that there was ‘nothing sinister in nature afoot’. That he was in fact completely willing in this venture with those ‘troublemaking dwarrows’. He was also quick to remind him that Tooks like him seldom got into situations they didn’t want to be in which earned him a chuckle. When he asked about his friends, Mister Proudfoot was reluctant to tell him that his uncles shooed them off back to their holes already. Bilbo swallowed the fact that he didn’t get to say goodbye with a tight nod.

“One more thing, Mister Proudfoot, if you would?” He asked.

“What is it, lad?” The inn owner asked kindly.

“Could you...if it’s not too much trouble, could you pass on a message to my uncles?”

“I could probably get Poppy to run up to the Hill.” Agil mused. “What’s the message?”

Bilbo hesitated not sure exactly how to sum up what he wanted to say without airing out all of his family drama for the past couple of hours.

“Could you have her tell them that...I recognize the truth in their words, and that I’m sorry I belittled their judgement. Also! Could you have her tell them that I understand their desire to return home, but if they could be bothered to check up on Bag End in my absence, that I would greatly appreciate it.”

“You’ve got it, Bilbo.” Agil slapped him hard on the back. “You finish up your business and hop your little way on back here soon. Those uncles of yours would hang the stars for you, and I’m sure they’ll be missing every moment you’re gone.”

Bilbo felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably at Mister Proudfoot’s words. He barely managed a weak smile and goodbye before he stepped out into the sun making the measly amount of bread and water want to come back up that much stronger. The dwarrows weren’t hard to find as they were busy saddling up twelve ponies just off to the side of the road.

“Well lookie there lads! He lives!” One of them wearing a ridiculous hat announced pointing out Bilbo with a wide smile on his face.

There were some chuckles and more than a few smirks as they all stopped to stare Bilbo down. Bilbo shifted uncomfortably and used his foot to scratch the other as he ducked his head at their teasing.

“What’s the matter, Master Hobbit? Nothing more to say about our _‘im-fressive beards’_?” The one with his hair braided into three points carried on.

This started a new round of laughter and did nothing to help Bilbo’s mortification.

“Enough. We’ve dallied too long as it is. Be done so we can move on.” Thorin shouted above the din commanding everyone’s attention.

All the dwarrows quickly got back to work, not giving Bilbo another passing glance. He locked eyes with Thorin for a moment, before even the blue-eyed dwarf found other matters worthy of his attention. Bilbo just stood there completely at a loss, and more than a little self-conscious.

“Know anything about riding, Master Hobbit?” A dwarf with golden hair approached him, his fawn eyes gleaming with a level of hidden mischief.

“Um...no, actually, not at all. Us Shire-folk like to keep our feet firmly on the ground.” He answered.

“And your backsides as well if last night was anything to go off of!” The dwarf with the hat laughed again.

The golden dwarf turned to the other. “Itkit! Me asnân tada Mahal duhû kansu tah. (Shut up! You are proof that Mahal has no humor.)”

Bilbo watched apprehensively as some of the other dwarrows laughed at this including the one with the hat who only shook his head at them.

“I’m Vili.” The golden haired dwarf continued turning back to Bilbo. “The Sunny Beard.”

Bilbo didn’t know what to do with this dwarf’s raised eyebrows and insistent grin and decided to nod to be polite.

“A pleasure.” Bilbo responded, shaking the dwarf’s hand.

He took the hand adamantly before he proceeded to continue introducing Bilbo to the rest of the company.

“Ol’ Mustache Beard here with no sense of humor is Bofur.” He pointed to the dwarf in the hat who smiled and nodded in Bilbo’s direction. “Then we have Bifur, Axe Beard. Nori, Star Beard. Gloin, Red Beard. Of course you’ve already met Balin, Grandpap Beard. Tall Beard next to him is his brother, Dwalin. Then you have Frerin, Short Beard. And finally Thorin...well, what name would you have for Thorin?”

Bilbo became increasingly overwhelmed and confused by Vili’s introductions. He greatly appreciated the visual confirmation along with their names, but Isengrim never taught him that it was common practice to introduce a dwarf by the physical characteristics of their beards. Besides that, barring no offense, some of those titles were pretty ridiculous. Anyways, if that was the case, why was Vili waiting for him to comment on Thorin’s facial hair?

“I don’t understand. Is describing your beards a way you dwarrows normally introduce yourselves?” He finally asked.

Everyone started laughing at him again, and Bilbo was afraid embarrassment was going to color him many times throughout this journey.

“Not normally, no.” Mustache...that is, Bofur laughed. “That honor belongs all to you.”

Suddenly small pieces of last night returned to his memory. He remembered talking to a ‘Tall Beard’, and then grabbing Thorin’s face between his hands… The meager breakfast that had been swirling around in his belly didn’t wait much longer before forcing its way back up. He had just enough time to excuse himself and waddle a few paces out of the way before he emptied the contents of his stomach once more. He started patting down his coat and pack to find a handkerchief to rid him mouth of the aftereffects only to find he had forgotten to pack one. That was quite easily the drop that burst the dam.

Bilbo threw off his pack, and plopped down on the ground putting his head in his hands. What was he doing? He wouldn’t be able to survive this. There was no way! He’s barely made it past Bree on his own, and these rude dwarrows intent on laughing at him probably wouldn’t be much help. He thought back on Isengrim’s words earlier about all the dangers outlined in the contract. Why hadn’t he just listened? Why hadn’t he let Balin get him out of this? He _couldn’t_ do this on his own!

Bilbo could feel the company’s stares, but wasn’t privy to their silent exchanges. It seemed that none of the dwarrows knew exactly how to handle the little hobbit upset at getting sick and unwilling to move. Of course, it would be Thorin that everyone looked to for instructions on what to do. He merely rolled his eyes and marched over to smaller being unaware of the ensuing storm.

“Are you quite through, Mister Bilbo? I fear we’ve suffered your antics more than enough as it is.” 

“Now see here!” Bilbo jumped to his feet with fire in his shining eyes, managing to catch the dwarf off guard. “I’ve suffered more than enough of _you_! You with your blue eyes and your oaken shield and your drunken contracts. I am, _was,_ a respectable hobbit! I’ve given up everything to come on this blasted quest of yours, and if I want to spend five minutes on the ground sulking over not having a handkerchief...well I believe I have earned that right!”

If Thorin’s eyes could burn holes into a person, Bilbo was certain a dragon would do less damage. Not that he wasn’t trying to wish the dwarf out of existence himself.

“I didn’t ask you to join us! You unbelievably irritating abrâfu shaikmashâz (descendent of rats)! Come or not, it matters little to me anymore. I will gladly set fire to the ashes of your contract if it keeps you out my sight for the next thousand years, you miserable Halfling!”

Bilbo wasn’t sure who was more surprised, him or Thorin, when a fist swung round to connect with the dwarf’s jaw. Maybe Bilbo was just surprised that it wasn’t his own fist as he looked over at his cousin who appeared from nowhere holding said hand in pain. 

“Sweet Yavanna! Was your face carved from stone?” Siggy swore nearly doubled over.

Thorin, on the other hand, merely rubbed the spot as if it was nothing more than a pesky insect bite. He held up his hand to hold up the two Vili introduced as Frerin and Dwalin who had been approaching as if they needed to support Thorin in what would be the most one-sided fight in the history of Shire brawls. Thorin glared at the two before looking at Siggy who placed himself bravely between Bilbo and Thorin even while he was still shaking out his knuckles with a grimace.

“You’re one of the hobbits from last night.” Thorin finally grunted.

“That I am, and while I’m sorry for the rude welcome, that’s my cousin you’re insulting, Master Dwarf.” Siggy announced, his chest puffed out in pride.

Thorin crossed his arms letting Siggy be the sole subject of his heated gaze. However, he shocked both of them when he gave a small bow of his head.

“Your family’s honor is restored. Your business with my company, however, has yet to be explained, Master Hobbit.”

“Oh, right!” Siggy exclaimed as he dug through his pockets before coming up with an old piece of parchment with clearly childish writing. “I’m under contract. My cousin Bilbo and I have promised to join each other on any adventures that arise. So I’ve taken it upon myself to join this venture.”

The taller dwarf, Dwalin, released a series of what Bilbo could only assume were impressive dwarvish curses that had Frerin smirking. Thorin’s fists clenched tightly as his jaw locked, looking very much like he would rather kill the both of them and rid himself of hobbits altogether.

“That is not happening. I will not be burdened by two of you.”

“You’re just going to have to think of this as an asset, then.” Siggy continued on much to Bilbo’s amazement. “We can watch each other’s backs leaving less for you to have to worry about. Besides, two Tooks are better than one!”

He swung his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders at that giving the biggest, capricious grin Bilbo had ever seen. Thorin’s eyes left Siggy and circled back to Bilbo. However, with the support of his cousin, Bilbo met his icy look with a defiant glare. 

“You have five minutes or we’re leaving without you.” He ordered before turning to walk away.

“Well, you sure know how to pick them.” Siggy sighed as he turned towards Bilbo shaking his head.

Bilbo just stared at his cousin in utter adoration. “Siggy, that contract was never binding, and it expired once Adlar became of age. Whatever are you doing here?”

Siggy snorted. “You think I would let you have all the fun without me? I just needed an excuse for him to let me come. Besides, you look like you could use this.”

Bilbo eyed the handkerchief in his hands making a vow to himself that he wouldn’t cry as he threw his hands around his cousin’s neck. Siggy hugged him back with no further preamble seeming to know just how much Bilbo needed that. 

“So tell me, are all hobbits like the two of you?” Vili interrupted their very touching moment with a large grin.

“Nope! When you get Bilbo and I, you get the best of the lot.” Siggy bragged.

“Well that certainly speaks volumes about the Shire.” The red headed dwarf, Groin, Gloin? murmured to one of the others just loud enough that Bilbo was able to hear their snickers.

Bofur took the opportunity to bring a pony over to them that Vili offered to help strap their packs on.

“You two don’t mind sharing, do you?” Bofur questioned.

“That would probably be for the best.” Bilbo answered as Siggy stared at the beast in contemplation of ‘how to get up there’.

“Now Siggy, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Hildibrand were really okay with you coming along?” Bilbo felt the need to clarify before letting himself want this.

Siggy’s eyes widened. “You’re supposed to tell them?! I just took a page out of your book and left a note before crawling through the window.”

“Siggy…” Bilbo sighed.

“Do you mind, Master Dwarf?” Siggy asked Vili indicating his desire to be placed on the pony’s back.

“Not at all, Master Hobbit.” Vili grinned before slinging him up there.

“Sigismond…” Bilbo tried again only to give a yelp when Bofur helped him up behind his cousin.

Bilbo clutched tightly to Siggy’s waist greatly despising the amount of air between the bottoms of his feet and the road.

“How do you make it move?” Siggy wondered.

“Press your heels into her flanks and snap the reins.” The star haired dwarf offered with a smirk.

“Like this?” He questioned before following the dwarf’s instructions.

“SIGGY!” Bilbo shouted as the pony shot off like a bolt.

The dwarrows sighed and shook their heads, a few of them chuckling under their breaths as they saddled up as well. Thorin watched them go with an unreadable look as if debating to just leave them before ordering the company after them. Needless to say, their hobbits were going to be a handful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eighth Unnegotiable Laws of the Fae: A Contract signed is to be upheld to the fullest extent of its Wording.
> 
> Thanks for all of the support so far! My sister and I just finished our annual week-long Disney movie marathon, so I am brimming with inspiration for this story. For anyone who is reading [Guardian of Kings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25381378/chapters/61545592), I will have the new chapter up by Sunday. Feel free to visit [my tumblr page](https://sunnyrosewritesstuff.tumblr.com/) to chat or see other works I am toying with.


	7. Chapter 4- The Road's Struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is about done with dwarrows, and we find out just why "Halfling" is so offensive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really meant to get this chapter out a lot sooner, but school kicked my butt last week! Anyways, here is a nice long chapter for you. If you want to see other works of mine or just want to chat, please visit my [tumblr page](https://sunnyrosewritesstuff.tumblr.com/). Otherwise, thanks for reading and I hope to have the next chapter of [Guardian of Kings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25381378/chapters/61545592) up next week!

This marked the second morning in a row that Bilbo was forced to wake up to the chilling, steady, heavy downpour that was common with Shire autumns. It was the perfect weather for sitting by the fire in an armchair, a good book in hand, and tea and biscuits at the ready. Instead, Bilbo found himself shivering in his receiving jacket, sitting on the back of a pony, clinging to his cousin who was still hashing his complaints from a week ago.

“It’s just...I feel like this is overreacting a bit.”

The lead to their pony had been removed from his hands and was now tied to the saddle in front of them, as it had every day since the first. Today the saddle they were tied to belonged to Bofur which in Bilbo’s opinion was a vast improvement from Dwalin’s company the previous day.

“Definitely not overreacting.” Bilbo snapped, trying not to yelp as a rivulet traveled straight down the back of his neck.

He pressed a little closer to Siggy, stealing his cousin’s body warmth. There were many things about this quest that made Bilbo feel inadequate. He just hadn’t thought packing was one of those things that had a right and wrong way. Nonetheless, his companions were quick to hold it over his head every time he even thought to complain about not having his winter coat.

“You should just feel lucky Thorin didn’t decide to strap the both of you down to the pony for added measure.” Vili was quick to tease.

Ah, yes. Thorin. The dwarf certainly hadn’t been gracious when he finally caught up to them all but yanking the poor animal to a stop, and dealing a verbal command on what he ‘expects’ from them from this point on. Mostly along the lines of stay quiet and out of his line of sight. Bilbo still found himself glaring at the back of his dark head. 

Bilbo really didn’t know what to think anymore. Clearly it had been the fantasy of a naïve faunt to think destiny would make things easy for him. He just didn’t think it would be this hard to get along with Thorin. He tried to make amends a couple of nights ago when he brought Thorin and Frerin their meals only to almost dump the bowl into their lap. Which was an accident...on Bilbo’s part. Nori had thought it quite hilarious to stick his foot out at that moment. Frerin didn’t do much past roll his eyes, and accept what was left of the meal with a quick nod. Thorin refused to even make eye contact for the rest of the night and the following day.

It could be a family thing. Finding out that they were brothers, he did notice that they seemed naturally serious and introverted. Except, right now for instance, Bilbo watched the leaders riding next to each other. Frerin said something to Thorin that made the dark haired dwarf shove him nearly out of his saddle. Dwalin and Gloin immediately threw their heads back in howling laughter while Thorin tried to repress a fond smirk. So they were capable of being companionable.

A deeper scowl formed its way between his brows. Bilbo was ready to chalk his meeting as a cosmic fluke. There had to be other people out in the great big world with blue eyes _and_ an oaken shield. However, every time he was on the verge to give in to his desires to be back with his books, back with his garden, and back with his armchair, he started to dream again. Even in spite of sleeping on the cold, hard ground surrounded by snoring dwarrows, he dreamt of mounds of gold. He dreamt of fire and desolated mountainsides. He dreamt of Thorin.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, he knew it had to be him. He didn’t just see his blue eyes anymore; he heard his voice in his dream. He heard his laughter, and a soft ‘ _ can you hear me’.  _ Not that Bilbo had ever been privy to such tender tones from the dwarf, but he knew they were Thorin’s all the same. Bilbo didn’t think he had been overly obvious in his objective observations. Vili seemed to know exactly where his line of sight lay anyways.

“Don’t take it too hard.” Vili patted him on the back. “It’s not that Thorin hates you. You’re just really...animated, and Thorin doesn’t know how to react to that.”

Bilbo’s nose twitched as he tried to figure out exactly how he had just been insulted by the dwarf. He found he enjoyed the company of the relatively good-natured dwarf, and it helped that Thorin didn’t seem too fond of him either for some reason. However, it was moments like these that kept Bilbo from calling him a friend just yet. When Vili was too candid for his own good, and really no one should be upbeat in this miserable torrent. Vili waned as he tried to find a way to revise his words under Bilbo’s silent scrutiny.

“You see, Thorin’s used to two type of people in his life: those that let him have his way, and those he has to scream at before letting him have his way.”

Ah, so Bilbo could now add ‘spoiled’ to his growing list of character defects for the blue eyed dwarf. Lovely.

“And while he’s accomplished what he set out to do, this was by no means  _ his way _ .” Vili continued. “It’s been wildly entertaining for us, but makes Thorin a little testy.”

“So you’re saying I should just let him have his way, and he’ll quit acting like I just squashed his prized tomatoes?”

Vili cocked his head as if working through Bilbo’s reference. “Yeah, I think that’s about the gist of it. But honestly I’m not too sure you can.”

Bilbo sighed. “And why exactly is that?”

“Well no offense, but you seem like someone who is used to getting  _ his way  _ as well.”

Siggy snorted as he tried to hold back his laughter forcing Bilbo to kick the back of his calf in annoyance. Bilbo found he was torn between throttling the heavily unhelpful dwarf beside him, turning the pony back for the Shire, or just throwing himself from its back.

To be fair, that was nearly an every other hour occurrence. Siggy had been especially mutinous early on in the quest when his request to stop for elevensies was met with eyerolls and a firm declaration that they would only be taking  _ three  _ meals, more than likely pushing towards two. Bilbo and Siggy both made a point to stock up on any berries and nuts in the area to snack from the pony’s saddle when they packed up after every meal since.

“You just have to weather the Durin storm. It gets better after that.” Vili advised with a large grin that showed he was especially proud of his poorly timed pun.

Bilbo nearly gave himself whiplash as he turned back to the golden haired dwarf to stare at him in shock. Siggy cried out as Bilbo sprayed him with a fresh wave of droplets, but Bilbo ignored him as his mind wandered away. Surely, the Valar were not this unkind. Although, he had to grudgingly appreciate the gods’ twisted sense of serendipity if the person he had been running from turned out to be the leader of the thrice damned quest he accepted in the first place.

“Durin? As in the royal family in Ered Luin, Durin?”

“Who else would you expect to lead a bunch of foolhardy dwarrows back into their homeland?” Bofur questioned from ahead.

“Wait a minute! Erebor? That’s where we’re headed?” Siggy exclaimed, spinning around to fixated Bilbo with an exasperated glare.

Bilbo knew it was just payback as Siggy’s wet locks pelted him in the face, but there was an underlying questioning look that begged Bilbo to answer the negative. Bilbo silently reminded the other hobbit that he was under no real obligation to come in the first place. His cousin rolled his eyes in response muttering under his breath about cursed gold and single-minded rockheads. The last of which brought a small smile to his face.

“Not cursed anymore, Mister Took.” Balin smirked as he fell back from his conversation with the leaders just in time to hear Siggy’s grumbles.

Bilbo’s interest was piqued. There may be more to this quest than he originally thought.

“You broke the curse of The Golden Lord?” He asked.

Balin quirked a brow at the name before shaking his head. 

“Nay, we did nothing.”

Bilbo and Siggy shared a brief confused look before Balin continued.

“I assume with you both being Tooks and Princes of the Shire, that you know the story of Erebor well?”

Bilbo nodded choosing not to correct him that it had nothing to do with his status, but his mother’s close personal friendship with a dwarf that kept him well informed.

“Well, when our prince’s coming of age approached, we were all waiting in mourning for the curse to come to pass and claim his soul. But when it did not, we figured the Old Worm must be dead, and Erebor ready to be reclaimed. It’s taken five years to put together an expedition towards our lost homeland. Yet, here we are.”

Bilbo pondered on this. He’s never heard of Fae magic, especially a curse, disappearing after death. However, obviously something had happened if the prince wasn’t claimed. Maybe Smaug actually had crossed a line with the Nine Laws, and it just took a while for him to be punished? Either way, Bilbo felt at least a little better marching into the mountain without the fear of dark magic hovering above him.

“So if everything is all fine now, what do you need Bilbo for then?” Siggy questioned.

“Well, King Thrain, in his wisdom, had Tharkun lock the doors to the treasury to dissuade looters. We have been told that the doors will only open for a Durin and a Took.” Balin explained.

“Which is why you needed to make sure I had Took blood.” Bilbo filled in.

Balin nodded his assent. 

“Course it worked out to have your cousin tag along.” Nori grinned. “Now we have a spare.”

Bofur and Vili both snickered at this. Bilbo was not amused. Siggy was only a couple of months younger, but by their laws, he still wasn’t an adult. If their journey so far was any indicator, he shouldn’t anticipate much trouble if any. It also helped that there was no curse at the end of this as well. Still, Bilbo felt the pressure of not only his own wellbeing, but Siggy’s as well. He truly didn’t think the dwarrows were cruel enough to leave them fending for themselves if it came to it, but he also didn’t like casual disregard to either of their lives. Luckily, Siggy eased Bilbo’s tension.

“By that logic, it works out well that you brought a spare Durin.” Siggy huffed.

The three of them went through varying degrees of scoffing or shrugging. It was obvious that they put on airs for their loyalties, but they didn’t seem too affronted by Siggy’s statement.

“Well, certainly not by design.” Vili shrugged. “But it’s pretty hard to find one brother without the other.”

That brought Bilbo back to this new development of the Durin brothers. There was a good chance that one of those two was his betrothed. He hoped it wasn’t Thorin. Definitely not. Nope, he would not feel even the smallest prick of disappointment if Frerin was his intended. Any curling in his stomach right now must be relief at the mere thought of not being tied to Thorin in marriage.

He couldn’t stop himself from wondering if they even knew about the contract or if they were to be blindsided with the truth, same as him. Would Thorin still treat him the same if he did know? Or did he treat him this way because he knew already? Bilbo resisted the urge to heave a huge sigh. He should make an effort to get to know them in any case. Not that he had any idea how to begin that conversation.  _ Hi, I’m the hobbit that our elders thought would make you a good husband despite having never met and having vast cultural obstacles that couldn’t possibly make us an ideal match. So what’s your favorite flower?  _ No, it would probably be for the best for Bilbo to play ignorant.

__

***

The rain was just starting to let up, showing the orange light of the setting sun when Thorin called for a halt. Needing a break from the chaos of his mind and the saddle, Bilbo wanted to melt into a puddle on the ground and sleep until the day after tomorrow. It would have to wait as Thorin immediately started issuing orders.

“Bifur, firewood. Gloin and Balin, get us a fire started once he gets back. Bofur, you’re on dinner duty. Nori, see if you can find fresh water. Frerin and Dwalin, scour the perimeter. Vili...latrine duty.”

Bilbo had to wince for the dwarf. That was his third time in a row that he got stuck with what Bilbo deemed the worst of their nightly chores. Bilbo had to be thankful he hadn’t reached that level of discord with Thorin. Vili seemed fairly unaffected as he took the shovel without even a glance in the direction of Thorin’s glare. Of course, Bilbo had already learned that no one was exempt from camp duties, even if they were ‘inexperienced hobbits’.

At first, he and Siggy were assigned cooking duty which was perfectly acceptable to Bilbo. However, what constitutes as a roadside meal to a dwarf was more of a light snack to a hobbit, and he was banned from the cooking pot for fear of leaving them no provisions in a week’s time. Since then, he’s been put on firewood duty only to have become distracted by a particularly flavorful patch of mushrooms. Bedroll duty resulted in him almost catching the entire camp on fire. Gloin still hadn’t quite forgiven him for that considering it was his bedroll. Refilling the waterskins was also not clearly in his repertoire of camping skills, but it’s not like he knew that stagnant water was any worse or better than flowing water. He wondered in what way he could prove himself incompetent tonight, and by the look on Thorin’s face he was thinking the same thing.

“Hobbits, you’re on pony duty tonight.”

Bilbo stared at him before turning to the massive animal beside him before looking back at Thorin.

“Yes!” Siggy cheered as he ran over to gather the reins of Dwalin’s pony first.

He tugged and tugged without result. Dwalin seemed content to watch him before clicking his tongue. On cue, the pony started to walk forward nearly causing Siggy to trip and fall. However, his cousin bounced back happy to lead the pony off to the stream for water and grazing with most of the herd following his lead.

Thorin was shaking his head, his eyes looking pained. He met Bilbo’s gaze and inclined his head as if waiting to lash out once Bilbo messed up this simple chore. Bilbo puffed up at the challenge even as he gingerly took the lead to his pony. He followed Dwalin’s lead and gave a small cluck of his tongue. Immediately, she started moving in the direction Bilbo tugged. A bright smile broke out across his face, and when he turned back to Thorin, the dwarf was fighting off a smirk. Bilbo’s heart flipped, and his mouth ran away before his mind could catch up.

“What’s your favorite flower?”

Thorin’s smirk fell and he just stood there blinking at Bilbo. Mounting horror at what he had said burned through his entire body, made worse when he realized the camp had become unnaturally quiet. A quick glance around showed all the dwarrows paused in their work to stare at the hobbit as if he lost all his wits. Bilbo was almost thankful when the pony gave him an impatient nudge in the back with her nose.

“Uh…never mind. I’m just going to…”

Beating a hasty retreat, Bilbo led the remaining ponies towards the valley all too aware of the blue eyed stare boring into his back. Siggy was waiting for him with his arms crossed, a giant grin on his face, and a raised eyebrow.

“Shut up.” Bilbo ordered.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Siggy held up his hands. “Except that I would bet he’s a lavender kind of dwarf. Maybe hydrangea.”

Bilbo glared at him. “No, he’s not.”

Siggy rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on! How can you possibly still be hung up on him?”

“I’m n-”

Bilbo stayed his tongue causing Siggy to glare. Bilbo bowed his head in shame before continuing in a softer tone.

“There’s a chance he’s the dwarf I’m engaged to.”

“Yeah, there is.” Siggy finally huffed after a moment. “But Bilbo…you can’t have it both ways. We came out here because you were trying to escape your marriage contract, right?”

Bilbo shot his cousin a stricken look. Siggy quickly backtracked.

“I don’t think you’re a Breaker! Escape was the wrong word.”

“No it wasn’t.” Bilbo whispered.

Siggy didn’t have a response so Bilbo finished his errand with a numb detachment. As the mare dropped her head to drink, Bilbo ran his fingers through her mane with soft words of encouragement.

“Good girl, Myrtle. I think I owe you a nice apple after carrying my annoying cousin and I.”

Siggy scoffed and rolled his eyes, but amusement and remorse shown through when he spoke up again.

“Myrtle?” He questioned.

“She is rather pushy just like Cousin Myrtle. I thought it fitting.”

Siggy chuckled. “More pushy than Minto?”

“Fine, we can name Vili’s pony Minto.”

“It’s a girl.”

“Minty, then.”

So that’s how they finished their task. Finding names of their relatives they only kind of liked to name the ponies. As they discussed their reasonings in their names, they found themselves lost in uncontrollable giggles soothing earlier hurts.

“Ah, and what of Mister Thorin’s majestic gelding?” Siggy questioned snickering towards the end.

“This right here is a fine gentle horse.” Bilbo declared petting the pony’s nose. “After all, to be surrounded by all these mares and still act decently.”

Siggy lost it again making Bilbo laugh as well.

“Good point. Do we know any upstanding gentlehobbits?”

“Uh…oh, Longo Baggins?” Bilbo stated.

The hobbit maintained his façade of total seriousness for exactly three seconds before he and Siggy started busting up laughing again. Bilbo had to wipe a tear from his eye, he was laughing so hard.

“No, I would never insult any creature in such a way. Certainly not our noble friend here.” Bilbo heaved once he was able to breathe normally again.

“Still for a respectable gentle pony, I think he deserves to be named after a Baggins.” Siggy mused absentmindedly. “What about Bungo?”

Bilbo stilled as a sharp ache took all of his former humor. A sympathetic look stole across Siggy’s face as he watched Bilbo hesitantly stroke the pony’s nose.

“Bungo wouldn’t go off on an adventure like this.” Bilbo finally stated with a sad smile.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.” Siggy argued with his arms crossed. “There wasn’t a hobbit more fascinated with Aunt Bella’s stories…well aside from maybe you.”

Bilbo gazed at his cousin with a bitter smile. Siggy continued.

“Besides, I know there’s some bravery hidden under all that Baggins huffing and puffing.”

Bilbo’s smile dropped, and his eyes went far away. Back to a world covered in ice and snow. An erroneous howl rose above the hills, and Bilbo shut his eyes before he could complete the vision.

“Do you think he would be disappointed?” Bilbo croaked. “In me, I mean.”

Siggy wrapped an arm around his cousin’s shoulders as he shook his head in the negative.

“From what I remember of Uncle Bungo, I don’t think there was ever a possibility you could disappoint him. Unless…you know. You married a Sackville…or a Bracegirdle.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes as he fought to hide his smile. He finished tying  _ Bungo’s  _ reins to the stake they had placed in the ground so that way he had room to graze without straining his neck.

“I’m glad you came, Siggy.”

“Well of course.” He declared rather importantly. “This is a venture that requires brains after all.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m here then.”

“Oi!”

Bilbo took off running with Siggy right on his heels. As the world fell into darkness, Bilbo let the light of the roaring fire guide him back to camp after cresting the hill. He was no more than a few paces away when Siggy tackled him to the ground. More accurately, tackled him into a mud puddle.

“Siggy!” Bilbo complained as he jumped up to take off his staining jacket.

“Is this you admitting defeat?” Siggy questioned.

Bilbo stuck out his foot tripping Siggy and causing him to fall in the same puddle. Siggy spluttered in disbelief as Bilbo stuck up his nose in mock superiority.

“Admit defeat? How dare you! Grandpap would travel the entire length of Arda to box my ears. Try telling me he wouldn’t.”

Siggy started sniggering again, and coupled with their little display, they were attracting more than their fair share of exasperated and amused looks from the dwarrows.

“Alright you two, now sit right there and supper will be served in a moment.” Bofur chuckled good naturedly.

A log lay next to the fire with only one other occupant. Vili gave them a wide grin as he moved to make room for them. Bilbo sat in the middle, and Siggy sat as close as possible to him clearly still in a mischievous mood. Bilbo shoved him back towards his end, and Siggy immediately slid back in pushing Bilbo into Vili.

“Enough, Halflings!” Vili declared shoving Bilbo back over.

The two hobbits were so shocked, they both flew off the end of the log nearly pitching themselves into the fire. Bilbo’s jaws was dropped as he stared up at Vili. He made no attempt at an apology though. Just shaking his head with exasperation. Bofur was teasing Vili about being too rough with them, but never once addressed the underlying problem.

Very slowly, Bilbo picked himself back up and perched himself on the log, but not as close to the golden haired dwarf as he was previously. Siggy’s eyebrows were drawn in irritation, his fists opening and closing as he fought down his anger in ragged breaths. The dwarf was clearly not as obtuse as Bilbo had been led to believe as he picked up on the palpable tension.

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Vili scoffed. “You were the ones acting like a couple of excitable pebbles.”

“Pebbles?” Siggy spat. “Using dwarvish insults now,  _ Second Born _ ?”

The clearing became dead silent as the rest of the group stared at Siggy. Not sure if they should be surprised by the venom in the usually jovial hobbit or angry at his cruel words.

“Tread lightly from here, Mister Took.” Vili all but growled, his eyes hard stones of amber.

Siggy jumped to his feet, and Bilbo moved quicker placing himself between the two as he stared Siggy down. The firelight made the green of his eyes dance with his outrage.

“Are you really just going to roll over and show your belly every time?” He hissed.

Bilbo glared down at him. “Your anger does you no good here, and you know it.”

Siggy gave him a bitter smirk. “Perhaps it’s a good thing Isengrim didn’t make you his heir.”

Bilbo flinched, frozen by his cousin’s hateful words as he watched Siggy stomp off with a grim expression. He didn’t blame him for getting agitated. It was different than with Thorin. He had been naturally standoffish, and Siggy had punched him square in the jaw for it. To hear it from someone who was becoming a friend…but that didn’t excuse the hobbit’s cruelty. Probably as a result of the Grubb in him on his mother’s side. Bilbo’s own grandmother, Laura Baggins nee Grubb, could tear a grown hobbit to tears with just five words when she was feeling particularly vicious.

“Now what’s got him so twisted ‘round?” Bofur mused.

Bilbo’s hands balled up into fists as he glared at the dwarf still stirring the cookpot.

“He insulted us!” He snapped pointing at Vili.

They were all staring at him in degrees of bafflement and indignancy.

“Your cousin is the one who offered insult.” Gloin spat. “Vili would have been perfectly in his right to draw his weapon in duel over such kafh [ aglâb ](https://eldamo.org/content/words/word-2118974069.html) (bitter tasting words).”

“And that’s how we feel over the term he used.”

“What? Halfling?” Bofur questioned.

“Yes.” Bilbo hissed wincing at hearing the ugly word again.

“He didn’t mean anything by it.” Nori scoffed. “Surely, you all know that you’re short.”

The dwarves all began to laugh, and Bilbo realized in that moment that they didn’t know. They weren’t aware of why the hobbits viewed ‘halfling’ as derogatory. He mused on that fact wondering whether he should tell them or not. After all, considering their history, they may not be accepting of the truth.

“That makes little sense coming from a group of people only a foot taller.” Bilbo murmured, ignoring their protests. “Besides, ‘half-’  _ that word  _ is not an insult to our size...but rather our blood.”

He hadn’t been too sure they had heard him, but when he looked up, he saw that he had nine sets of attentive eyes. Even Thorin, Frerin, and Dwalin were staring at him in curiosity. 

“What do you mean, Bilbo?” Vili was the first to venture.

Bilbo stared into the fire as he gathered his wits. It’s not exactly like it was a secret, but it also wasn’t something his people shared willingly. He looked back up locking gazes with Thorin realizing he wanted him to know. He wanted him to understand most of all. He plopped back down on a log with a drawn sigh.

“Can we eat first? This will be a long story.”

Bofur dished up the stew, and Bilbo looked back towards the valley where Siggy disappeared. He shook his head. It was his own fault if he didn’t get dinner. Bilbo couldn’t remember a time in this company it had ever been this quiet. Only after his bowl was empty did Bilbo start speaking again.

“Just like you dwarrows have your seven fathers, we can trace back our genealogy to three hobbit clans: the Harfoots, the Stoors, and the Fallohides. During the Great Migration, the Harfoots settled mostly in West Farthing in the areas of Michel Delving, Waymoot, and Hobbiton to an extent. They were the more cautious clan and built their homes into the side of the hills for protection and comfort which was eventually adopted by all the hobbits. The Stoors were more comfortable around water, and truly there are very few ‘pure Stoors’ left that can actually swim and float on their backs. Most hobbits just sink in water you see, and so the Stoors built their homes down by the Marish and inhabited the villages and towns more along the Brandywine. Then there is the Fallohides.”

Bilbo thought he would have lost a few of them at this point. However, they were already hanging onto his every word. It’s like his father used to say ‘ _ Secretive folks love secrets. _ ’

“The Fallohides were adventurous, strong-willed, natural-born leaders. It was the Fallohides who led the clans through the Great Migration, and the two brothers who headed the clan were the ones to approach the King of Arnor. After negotiating the land that would become the Shire from him, the rest of the clans agreed to crown both brothers as Thain of the Shire, our first official rulers. So we had Thain Buck Fallohide and Thain Took Fallohide.”

“Took! Just like you and Siggy!” Vili pointed out as if he had just solved a great puzzle.

Bilbo would have rolled his eyes if Thorin had not beaten him to it. Instead, he had to bite at the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he gave the leader a very subtle wink. Thorin’s eyes widened before turning his gaze away. Bilbo cleared his throat of any lingering embarrassment from his cheekiness before returning to his story.

“Yes, at this point distinction between the clans are mostly lost to us through all the marriages and relocating, but the Brandybucks can trace their lineage back to Buck Fallohide, just as us Tooks can trace ours back to Took Fallohide.”

“So how come the Brandybucks aren’t considered royal by your people’s standards?” Balin asked, clearly invested in the hobbits’ history.

Bilbo gave a small frown as his brows furrowed together. “They still are, I suppose? That is a whole other chapter in the history of my people, but I suppose the short version would be that the Brandybucks, or as they were known back then, the Oldbucks, were dissatisfied with the direction the Shire was headed. They picked up and moved on the other side of the Brandywine settling in what is now known as Buckland and changing their name to Brandybuck. Because they moved out of the Shire, they turned the title of Thain over to the Tooks, but they established a Master of Buckland who is just underneath the Thain in title. So in that aspect, they really didn’t lose much prestige.”

“As  _ fascinating  _ as this is, what does it have to do with...anything?” Dwalin grunted.

“Ah, yes, forgive me.” Bilbo muttered, getting himself back on track while Balin not so subtly slapped Dwalin in the back of the head.

“Took Fallohide. As the younger brother, there wasn’t much he had to do in the way of governing, and so he would spend his afternoons exploring. The hobbits had all been warned by the King of Arnor not to mess with the Old Forest for there was a branch of the Summer Court that supposedly lived there. Well, being a Fallohide, this wasn’t enough to dissuade Took, if anything, it encouraged him. So he ventured forth into the dark forest pulsing with the magic of the Fae.”

Bilbo caught a glimpse of Thorin narrowing his eyes and clenching his jaw which nearly forced him to abandon his courage at reciting this particular tale. However, if they were going to continue to travel together, he needed to know.

“Took never spoke as to what he found in the Old Forest except for giant walking trees that shepherd the forest, and of one particular incident near the streambed that winds through the trees. You see, he had attracted many creatures' attention as something strange and new in their forest, and that included the attention of the faeries. There was one in particular, though her name has been forgotten to time through the many retellings of this story, but she was especially curious about the brash hobbit that had strolled into their sanctuary. She had been following him from up in the treetops and when he stopped to refill his waterskin she leaned in trying to get a closer look. That’s when the branch she was standing on snapped. She fell to the forest bottom, and the branch fell on top of her trapping her leg underneath a root.

Took turned when he heard the noise only to be mesmerized by the beautiful creature before him. Seeing that she was stuck, he immediately rushed forward to free her. He expected her to leave the moment the branch was removed, but instead she hovered just as fascinated with him. She told him that because he had saved her, by her laws he was allowed to ask for a favor from her. He didn’t put any thought to his wish before blurting out he would have her hand in marriage.”

Bilbo let a smile cross his face having always liked this part of the story. He kept his eyes on the fire, refusing to look up and see Thorin’s blue eyes on him.

“She didn’t outright accept or refuse. Instead, she told him that she would give him the chance to earn her heart. Then her hand would follow. Took returned home that night, and immediately got to work fashioning courting gifts. He carved well into the soft light of dawn making her lovespoons, music boxes, wooden tea sets, and a glory box for it all. Anything that was considered an acceptable hobbit gift. He returned the next day to present his creations, and while she was impressed by his skill, she did not accept his love as true. For sixteen days and nights, he would slave at creating something worthy of her heart, and every time she would turn him down.

Within the passage of that time, they would share pieces of their culture. He told her about hobbit smials and the farming they did and the satisfaction of a good dose of pipeweed at the end of a long day. In return, she shared her people’s value in flowers and how each plant had a personality. She came to realize that she was actually beginning to fall in love with Took, and if he came the next day, she would accept whatever he brought.”

Bilbo paused to take a breath here and check that he still had the dwarrows attention.

“However, Took Fallohide had learned from his mistakes, and when he went home that day he crafted a gift not as a hobbit, but as someone seeking the hand of a faerie. He went to the field and picked orchid flowers for exotic beauty, magnolias for their shared love of Yavanna’s green earth, and heliotrope for everlasting love. He weaved the flowers together into a crown worthy of his future bride. Which, as a side note, flowers became a part of hobbit courting after this. When he returned the next day, she was so overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of his gift, that she accepted his love and his hand with all her heart. Thus, Took Fallohide brought back his Fae wife.”

Bilbo let the story sink in for a moment as he lost himself in wondering what flowers he would use for his beloved’s crown. Images of Thorin with amaryllis, purple columbine, and red camellia played around in his head before he was even aware of what he had done. He shook his head too appalled to be properly embarrassed.

“Which brings me to the point of this story.” He continued hastily. “We are ‘half-Fae’. The Took family more than any others, but as I said before, families have married into other families, and as a people we are deemed to have ‘half-blood’. It’s not anything glamorous or special. I can’t perform magic or mesmerize someone nor am I immortal. But the Fourth Law of the Fae states: Fae Blood bleeds true. No matter how minuscule, if you have Fae in your lineage, you are bound to the Laws. So we have to bow to the rules of the Fae, even though they make it apparent what they think of us. ‘Halfling’ is the Fae’s insult that my family even exists in the first place.”

The silence that followed his reveal weighed down on Bilbo, pushing his gaze down to his toes. He was scared though. He was scared to see the scorn and betrayal in their faces.

“I’ve heard of the Nine Unnegotiable Laws from my father who heard it from a hobbit himself.” Balin finally admitted in a soft tone. “She seemed rather shocked after hearing about the Durins’ curse to find that Smaug was able to cast it in the first place.”

Bilbo looked up to see the honest expression on the dwarf’s face. Everyone else was unreadable as they digested the information. Well, except for Vili, who seemed to be almost sick with shame. Still, Bilbo’s stomach leaped at not immediately being ostracized after claiming to be part-Fae.

“Yes, my mother used to work herself up anytime it was brought up.” Bilbo added hesitantly. “The Sixth Law states: Children are a precious Gift, and shall never be the subject of direct harm. It was the ‘direct harm’ part that gave him the loophole to curse the Durin prince.”

Bilbo noticed Thorin gave him a sharp look at this. His eyes widened when he remembered what he was told earlier. Thorin was a Durin. The cursed prince had to be either him or Frerin. Bilbo couldn’t help wondering which of them it was able to escape the cruel curse.

“So what happens if you break one of these Laws?” Nori questioned.

Bilbo shrugged. “I don’t know of anyone who has broken the Laws in the last two hundred years, but we are warned of soul-sucking evils...shadows darker than night…”

An involuntary shiver racked his body, and Bilbo found he could no longer sit still. He jumped to his feet so abruptly, it startled a few of his companions.

“On that note, I had best go check on Siggy. He’s been gone for awhile.”

He gave them a nod in farewell before being trapped by Thorin’s gaze. The blue eyed leader looked as if he wanted to say something, but with Bilbo’s attention he lost the words. He finally gave a shake of his head, looking over at Dwalin and Frerin’s animated conversation in rapid khuzdul. Bilbo raised his chin and spun on his heel knowing they would probably start talking about him the moment he was out of earshot if they weren’t already.

Part of Bilbo regretted leaving the warmth of the fire’s glow, but another part felt freed at his retreat after the heavy conversation. He thought he was going the right direction, but when he was to the point where he only had the moon’s light as guidance, he began to call out his cousin’s name. He wandered down into the valley where they left the ponies to graze, and that’s when he was able to make out a shape that was vaguely hobbit-sized.

“There you are.” He admonished. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

He stopped next to the other Took only now able to see the pallor of his skin, and his wide unblinking eyes.

“Siggy?” He questioned nervously.

“Hey Bilbo? You know how we had twelve ponies before?” Siggy whispered.

“Yes?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, there’s only ten now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fourth Unnegotiable Law of the Fae: Fae Blood bleeds true. No matter how minuscule, if you have Fae in your lineage, you are bound to the Laws.
> 
> Flower Meanings:  
> Lavender- distrust  
> Hydrangea- frigidity and heartlessness   
> Amaryllis- pride   
> Purple Columbine- resolution   
> Red Camellia- "You're a flame in my heart"
> 
> I saw it in another fanfic and liked the idea that the dwarves would see "Second Born" as a slight considering the story of their creation. I think we all know what sort of trouble our company is getting into next time. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please feel free to comment/bookmark/subscribe/kudos/etc. -Sunny


	8. Chapter 5- The Troll's Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep, definitely trolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys! It just occurred to me this weekend that it was August when I last updated! Did not mean to be on hiatus for that long, but work/school caught up to me. Please enjoy this long awaited chapter!

“What did you do?” Bilbo hissed.

“I didn’t do anything!” Siggy snapped back. “I left the ponies to graze, wandered off to clear my head, and I came back to find Bungo and Daisy missing.”

“Well, they have to be around here somewhere!”

Siggy threw his hands up in the air. “Do you think I haven’t been looking? You’re the smart guy, you figure it out!”

Bilbo was just about done with Siggy’s attitude, but as he spun around to give him a piece of his mind, he was interrupted by a large crack. He jumped out of the way just in time as an entire tree came crashing down. Bilbo and Siggy huddled behind it peeking over the top only for the color to drain from their faces. A massive fifteen-foot tall troll picked up Myrtle under one arm and Minty under the other before stomping back the way it came.

“Sweet Yavanna, plant these seeds that I may reap.” Siggy murmured.

Bilbo was in complete agreement. It seemed like an entire age passed as Bilbo and Siggy just sat there in bone-numbing fear. Bilbo knew what they needed to do. They needed to go back and warn the dwarrows. Gather up the remainder of the ponies and leave while they still could. Siggy seemed to have other ideas.

“Where are you going?” Bilbo gaped as his cousin began to slink off in the direction of the troll.

“We can’t just let them eat our ponies!” Siggy explained.

“We can’t take on a troll, Sigismond!”

“I’m not talking about fighting it. Just sneak the ponies out while it’s distracted.”

Bilbo shook his head in frustration. Why did he seem to have the most bull-headed family members in existence? Sneaking ponies out past trolls. Did he think they were some kind of burglars?

“And what is your plan when it decides to come back to fetch the rest of them?” Bilbo asked.

Siggy remained silent, clearly indicating he hadn’t thought that far ahead. 

“So you take the rest back to the dwarrows, and I’ll go…”

“No! No, no!” Bilbo interrupted him, shaking his head and his hands.

What a terrible suggestion! Siggy was still underage after all. Bilbo was not about to abandon his cousin at the hands of a monstrous troll. Bilbo knew his cousin well enough to know he wasn’t about to leave this well enough alone though. Perhaps it was that determination that made Bilbo’s decision for him. Or perhaps it was to keep from seeing what he was sure would be disappointment and exasperation on Thorin’s face at failing yet another job. They were to look after the ponies, and by Eru, Bilbo was going to look after each and every one of the damn beasts.

“ _ You  _ go back to the dwarrows.” He emphasized. “I’ll get the other four.”

Siggy’s eyebrows pinched. “Now wait a minute…”

“I don’t see what the problem is.” Bilbo mocked, much too irritated with this situation to behave rationally. “I am after all the best at sneaking past Farmer Maggot. This should be no problem.”

“If Farmer Maggot was built like a mountain, I would find that more reassuring.” Siggy complained with his arms crossed.

“We don’t have time to waste.” Bilbo hissed. “Besides, I’ll only show my belly to the dwarrows, yes?”

Bilbo was rather surprised himself with the way the hurtful words just spewed out of his mouth so he could only imagine how Siggy felt. The younger hobbit was completely frozen, the night hiding his expression well. His fists tightened for a moment before he was spinning on his heel.

“Fine! Go play hero! But by Yavanna, don’t you dare die on me, Bilbo Baggins, because I am not through with this conversation!”

Bilbo supposed that was fair considering that was his opinion as well. Still he had to roll his eyes.  _ Play hero.  _ As if Bilbo were trying to improve his standing with the Company through an act of bravery. Siggy was such a little fool, and he was the fool’s fool for going along with his pointless scheme.

Siggy hesitated for a moment more before silently slinking off back towards their camp. As soon as he was gone, dread’s cold touch caressed Bilbo’s skin to the point he was afraid he would be too frozen to take another step. He really,  _ really  _ didn’t want to do this. Bilbo sucked in a sharp breath before putting one foot in front of the other. His mind drifted back to his contract, and he couldn’t help the gruesome thought of which death the troll would decide to deal him. Did the contract even cover being squashed into the ground like a bug?

He kept to the shadows of the trees as the soft, warm glow of a campfire started to become visible. The troll he had been following set Myrtle and Minty in a makeshift pen along with the already captured Daisy and Bungo. It was of mild relief to find they had not already been eaten. Now, however, Bilbo had two more gargantuan problems to add to his list. It was not one, but  _ three  _ trolls gathered around the campfire.

He pressed his back against the tree as he listened to them complain about their dinner selection. He had to hope that ‘hobbit’ would be more disagreeable than mutton or old farmers. He took a large breath in, counted to three, and slunk towards the pony pen. Recognizing him as a friend, the ponies immediately began to neigh and stomp the ground. He put a finger to his lips to shush them hoping they would somehow understand. 

One of the trolls, Tom, he had learned through his eavesdropping, turned around to see what had the ponies stirred up, and Bilbo ducked down as his heart threatened to beat right out of his chest. However, the troll was quickly pulled back to the continued conversation over the camp pot. He certainly thought a debate about seasonings and flavors would have been well above such brutish creatures, but that was a thought for another day. He needed to focus on getting the ponies free and getting out, or he was almost certain hobbit would be on the menu. The problem was the knot to the pen was too tight and large for his deft little fingers.

That’s when he spotted the large curved knife hanging from the troll’s belt. Bilbo almost turned and left right there. The blade was nearly as long as his whole body after all! His nose twitched as he considered his options. He could leave right now. Siggy would still be in his disappointed tizzy and Thorin would certainly not be any more enjoyable to face, but he would be alive. He could continue this suicidal path and get skewered and roasted by trolls. Or he could nick the knife like he has Isengar’s pipe throughout his entire tweenhood and walk back to camp with the ponies in triumph. None could argue he didn’t belong on the quest if he managed to burgle four ponies from three trolls.

Siggy’s ‘ _play hero’_ reverberated through his being, but he ignored it as he steadily pushed forward towards the troll’s side. His stealth worked in his favor as he was now close enough to the knife to touch it. He went to reach for it when the troll shifted, moving it out of reach. He wrung his hands together nervously. He could do this. He just needed to size up how to grab a handle as big around as his arm.

Before he could attempt it again, a loud screech went up in the clearing. The trolls froze cocking their heads at the noise causing Bilbo to look around nervously as well. There was another screech followed by a whooping noise.

“Damn owls.” William, another of the trolls, scoffed.

Bilbo would have taken that as his cue to return back to his work if he hadn’t caught sight of movement in the tree line he came from. His eyes moved from Tom’s knife back to the trees just in time to see Thorin’s head pop out from behind a trunk. The screeching noises and whooping noise started up again, and Bilbo realized it was the dwarf making the noise.

He gave him a bewildered look as he ducked for cover a little closer to where the ponies were corralled. His lack of understanding must have been communicated because Thorin then began to perform a series of hand signs. That he did understand vaguely. Bofur and Bifur had been showing him signs in iglishmêk so he could communicate easier with the older dwarf. Ironically, they had only managed to teach him “I don’t speak iglishmêk” in iglishmêk.

Bilbo signed the necessary movements to Thorin, and he could see the dwarf rolling his eyes as the back of his head hit the tree in his annoyance. There was a hard look in his eyes as he mouthed his words quite clearly pointing to the spot before him in emphasize.

_ “Come here.” _

Bilbo was shaking his head as he mimed cutting on a dinner plate with a knife. Thorin raised an eyebrow mouthing his words again.

_ “What?” _

Bilbo resisted the urge to groan as he mimed the sawing motion again, but this time he pointed to the rope on the crudely erected fence. He thought he had made his point quite clear, and that Thorin would be in favor of helping him. However, the dwarf glowered at him, his jaw clenched so tight, there was muscle jumping there.

_ “Come. Here.”  _ Thorin repeated. 

The dwarf was so obstinate! Always had to be his way. Coupled with Tom standing up to scratch his bum, and Bilbo was nearly at his wit’s end as he ran his hands through his mess of curls. 

_ “Will you just leave me alone and let me work?!” _

It took exactly two seconds of Bilbo and Thorin blinking at each other in shock for Bilbo to realize that he didn’t mouth those words. They had been spoken aloud.

“What’s this then?”

Bilbo gave a yelp as William grabbed him by the legs and lifted him up into the air upside down. He frantically looked over to Thorin for help, but the dwarf was no longer there. Ice traveled down his spine. He wouldn’t have just left him...would he?

“What is it? An oversized squirrel?”

The trolls pressed in close as if to analyze what manner of creature Bilbo was before cooking him up.

“I’m a Took...a hobbit.” Bilbo quickly corrected nervously.

“A tookahobbit?” Tom, quite easily the dumber of the three trolls, repeated.

“Can we eat him?” William pressed.

“He wouldn’t make more than a mouthful.” Bert argued staring into his pot mournfully.

“Maybe there are more tookahobbits hiding.” Tom piped up.

Bilbo was shaking he was so frightened. Still he wasn’t going to give up his cousin and the dwarrows. He knew better than that, and the trolls gave him the perfect out so he could protect them without lying.

“N-No. No tookahobbits.” He shook his head.

“He’s lying!” Tom insisted.

“It just so happens that I don’t lie.” Bilbo shot back.

“Ah. A faery then.” Bert hummed.

This could work out well for Bilbo. A lot of creatures chose to avoid faeries and risk their magic.

“I’ve had faery before. Not a bad flavor.” The cook encouraged his companions.

Or maybe not. Bilbo closed his eyes anticipating impending doom and death at the hand of these trolls when William released a pained squeal. He looked back to see he had a hand over his nose, and all three were staring at the figure before them. His bow drawn taut, and his blue eyes promising pain.

“The next one goes through your eye if you don’t drop him.” Thorin growled.

“What?” The troll grunted, his grip tightening just slightly on Bilbo’s legs making him hiss.

Vili popped up beside Thorin at that moment spinning his twin blades rather dramatically. His eyes were just as hard though.

“I believe he told you to DROP HIM!” He demanded.

Thorin released his hold on the string, his arrow finding its mark, and Bilbo was suddenly airborne as the troll screamed and clutched his eye. He winced at the idea of connecting with the hard ground when Thorin’s shape came into view. He toppled the dwarf onto his back while clinging to him like a lifeline. Around them, the clearing erupted into battle cries and squeals of pain as all the dwarrows rushed to their aid against the trolls. 

Bilbo stared down into Thorin’s surprised blue eyes marveling at flecks of grey shining by the firelight. It was as if he had his very own constellations in his eyes. It was so mesmerizing that for a small moment, Bilbo forgot the chaos reigning around them. Forgot the contract, forgot his impending marriage. Then the eyebrows hooding them pinched, and a scowl overtook Thorin’s face. Bilbo was caught off-guard as he was shoved off Thorin, the dwarf drawing his blade.

“Get to the trees, and stay out of the way.” He ordered. “We will have words later.”

Bilbo bristled at the warning, but was honestly more than happy to escape the skirmish happening around him. Everywhere he looked dwarves were chopping at whatever they could reach on the trolls, a couple of them coming close to being squashed themselves. The thick skin of the trolls kept the clearing from being a complete bloody mess, but Dwalin was certainly doing his best to change that. Frerin swung his war hammer in what looked to be a crippling blow to one of the troll’s knees. Nori’s knives were quick to penetrate the soft flesh around the trolls’ neck and hands even if they didn’t stick. Then there was Siggy, sneaking his way over to the ponies’ pen with a rather large knife.

Bilbo swore his heart stopped. Siggy? The ponies were rearing up and kicking in fright of the commotion, but Siggy seemed to have taken up Bilbo’s original plan to saw through the rope. The only problem was Bilbo didn’t seem to be the only one who had noticed Siggy. William, who had been half-blinded by Thorin’s arrow, looked over to the younger hobbit as well with a sneer. Bilbo’s feet were moving even before his brain was able to catch up. It all happened so fast from there.

The rope broke. The ponies bolted. The giant hand was coming down towards Siggy. And Bilbo was able to shove the smaller body out of the way and to the ground right as a large hand wrapped around him for the second time that night.

“BILBO!” Siggy squealed in fright.

The battle paused as even the other trolls looked at what could give their opponents pause.

“Lay down your arms or I’ll crush him.” The troll warned tightening his grip on Bilbo’s poor body.

All around, the clearing became silent as every dwarf looked to Thorin. Bilbo wriggled as much as he could, but if Thorin decided to continue fighting, he was very much a dead hobbit. He locked gazes with the blue-eyed dwarf, and resigned himself to this being it. There was no sympathy or horror to be found on Thorin’s stern face. He was actually going to let the damn troll kill Bilbo. The moment seemed to go on forever before Thorin planted his sword into the ground.

“So be it.” He growled as the rest of the company followed suit.

***

With so many options in the wake of their prospective culinary creation, the trolls didn’t really know what to do with them other than tie them up. Sparing the limited amount of rope that was previously the ponies’ pen, they were lashed back to back. In Siggy, Vili, and Bofur’s case, a group of three. Bilbo had the grand misfortune of being tied to Thorin. Bilbo kept trying to turn to catch his eye and see if he had a plan, but he remained stiff and resolutely facing forward. So, he was going to die with the silent treatment being his final interaction with the dwarf of his dreams. There were worse ways, he supposed. Then Thorin had to open his mouth.

“I hope you’re happy, Hobbit.” Thorin hissed causing Bilbo to stiffen in shock.

“Are you trying to imply this is all my fault?” Bilbo snapped back.

“You were the one who had the bright idea to sneak into a camp of trolls _. _ ” Thorin returned.

“If you would have just let me work, I would have had the ponies free. Long before you lot came in and mucked things up.” He quipped.

Thorin snorted. “Well that is certainly one way you can call  _ saving your life _ .”

“Thanks. So kind of you to spare me being crushed to death only to join you in being eaten! What was your plan anyways? To hack the trolls down until you could finally reach their necks?”

“And did you think the trolls would not notice four ponies sprinting out of their camp?”

“Still seems more plausible than ‘ _ drop him’. _ ” Bilbo mocked, even has he felt the sting of embarrassment.

Thorin bristled on the verge of saying something else when Frerin kicked him in the shin. Incredulous anger pulled the usually easy-going brunette’s eyebrows down. Coupled with Dwalin’s murderous glare since the two of them were tied together, and Bilbo already felt properly chastised even before the prince opened his mouth.

“Are you serious right now?!” He snapped to the both of them. “I don’t think this is really the time for a row!”

Thorin shifted uncomfortably, and Bilbo grunted as it pulled the ropes on his side tighter. However, the two of them got the hint. Thorin was back to facing forward, and Bilbo took to watching the trolls with a morbid fascination. He half-listened to them argue over whether tying them to a stake and spit-roasting them was a better method than boiling them in a stew. He was more partial to stew himself, but he didn’t think the company of dwarves, hobbit, or trolls would value his input in the matter.

“I don’t care what we do anymore!” William groaned, still smarting over the loss of his eye. “Let’s just do it fast. Dawn can’t be that far away.”

Dawn? Bilbo’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion before it suddenly clicked. Trolls must be creatures of darkness! They wouldn’t survive in the sunlight. Bilbo’s eyes turned upward trying to gauge how long they had. The stars were just beginning to twinkle out. Thirty? Maybe forty minutes? He might be able to stall them for that long.

“Fine. We’ll fillet and fry them. It’ll be the quickest.” Bert grumbled.

“Wait! You are making a huge mistake!” Bilbo called out suddenly.

Everyone turned to look at him curiously. Even Thorin looked to be trying to peek at him over his shoulder.

“What’s that?” The cook asked.

“I’m talking about the fry-up. I am a hobbit of fine taste, and I refuse to go out this way.” Bilbo demanded pulling as much courage as he could. “Which is why I would prefer to be braised with a nice red wine. Oh! Hobbit and dwarf-meat pie. Can’t go wrong with a meat pie.”

Loud complaints and exclaims went up around the camp, and even Thorin elbowed him in the side.

“You’re just going to make this worse!” The leader hissed in his ear.

Bilbo ignored him while tempted to elbow him back for good measure.

“A meat pie will take forever! And we don’t have any pastry dough.” Tom complained.

“So braising it is!” Bilbo exclaimed with false enthusiasm. “Now what do we have to work with in terms of seasoning?”

Clearly pleased to be able to share his love for the culinary arts, the troll cook presented his herbs before Bilbo while the other two trolls groaned in the background. Bilbo hummed in disappointment at the options presented to him causing the troll to regard him in confusion.

“Sage?” Bilbo complained. “Have you smelt them? You’re going to need something a lot stronger before you plate this lot up. What about thyme or rosemary?”

Cue another round of dwarven grumblings with some rather creative death threats by Dwalin. Bert began to rummage back through his stash when Bilbo heard a muffled yelp and a rustle in the brush. He turned his head slightly only to see Nori and Gloin were gone. His eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

“What about parsley?” The troll offered.

Bilbo cocked his head. That actually wasn’t bad.

“Do you have any basil to go with it?” He asked hating how curious he truly was.

The cook pushed a few tins around before pulling it out in triumph. Bilbo blinked in surprise. Okay, what did he do from here? Bert was staring at him expectantly, and Bilbo was beginning to sweat.

“So the secret to a good braising is to…”

“Yes?” The troll prompted.

“Is to…”

“What’s the secret?” He demanded with impatience.

“Yes! I’m telling you the secret! It’s to...skin them first!”

Bilbo tried to remain confident in his words even as he became relatively sick at the prospect. Why did he just say that? The troll, however, was more than eager asking for the other two to bring a filleting knife and skillet. Bilbo looked around worriedly only to note that now Balin and Bifur were now missing. Just what was happening?

“Y-Yes, um, the juices of the m-meat mix with the wine for a nice burst of flavor.” Bilbo continued to advise even as he swallowed down his own dinner threatening to push up.

Bert and Tom were hanging on Bilbo’s every word looking close to drooling. However, it was the last troll that seemed fed up with Bilbo’s tactics.

“What a load of rubbish! I say we just eat them now, and be done with it. Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf.”

His massive hand immediately picked up Thorin and Bilbo looking for immediate revenge. Thorin was cursing and kicking Bilbo in his squirming, and with a good shake Bilbo fell back to the ground free of his bonds. 

“NOT HIM!” Bilbo shouted as he jumped back to his feet, hands held in a plea. 

The troll was ignoring him, and Bilbo swore his heart stopped when Thorin gave him a half-hearted, resigned glare poised over the troll’s open mouth. What could he do? What could he say that wasn’t a lie that would free Thorin? 

“HE’S CURSED!” He gave one last desperate plea.

“He’s what?” The troll gasped pulling Thorin away.

“Yes, cursed.” Bilbo repeated resisting the urge to sigh in relief as Thorin was dropped back onto the ground. “In fact, they all were. Real nasty business. I wouldn’t risk it if I were you.”

“Rubbish.” William tried to recover.

“It’s gotta be true though!” Tom argued. “He’s a tookahobbit! They don’t lie.”

“What if it’s poisoned their insides? Can’t be good eating.” Bert murmured in agreement.

Bilbo nodded his head with a wide smile as he brushed his hands together. Well, that was a job well done. Now, he just needed to get Thorin and the others and get out while they still could. He turned back to where the rest of the dwarrows and Siggy sat, only to find them gone. His eyes snapped over to where Thorin had landed, but he had also vanished. Well wasn’t that nice after all he had done for the dwarf, and he just runs off and leaves him!

“Hey! Where did they go?” Tom complained.

The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention as he slowly turned back around only to see three angry trolls glaring right down at him.

“This little ferret has taken us for fools.” William declared poking at him with his knife.

“Ferret?!” He repeated in offense. 

Perhaps, not the stance to take when three trolls were glaring down at him with the desire to maim and potentially still eat him. 

“Hey! If you’re looking for a fine meal, you’re not going to get it with that skinny little thing there.”

Bilbo had to be hearing things. However, as he turned his head along with the trolls, he was shocked to see it was in fact his Uncle Hildifons in his old blue traveling coat. Bilbo thought he could physically melt in his relief. Never has he been more excited at seeing the older hobbit.

“More tookahobbits!” The first troll marveled.

“Yep, definitely more of us.” 

The trolls and Bilbo, once again, swung their heads around only for it to be Bilbo’s Uncle Isengar.

“Certainly enough for three hungry trolls like yourselves.”

Bilbo might actually cry. Uncle Isengrim was there too. 

“Catch the tookahobbits!” Tom declared as they all chased after a different uncle of Bilbo’s leaving him alone.

He was about to insert himself back into the dangerous game of hide and seek when Siggy put his hand on his shoulder. 

“Let’s go!” He murmured, pulling Bilbo back to the tree line where he was able to see the dwarrows free and waiting.

A grin split his face. He wasn’t left behind after all. He had a small moment to revel in total relief, then he noticed the shadow above them. Turns out Bilbo wasn’t as completely forgotten by the trolls as he thought. He and Siggy dived to opposite sides to avoid being squashed before quickly getting their feet back under them. Bilbo’s uncles continue to taunt the trolls to get their attention back on them, and even the dwarrows joined in on the confusion. William just seemed to have it out for Bilbo. He was tripping over himself to get away, and yet he still felt the tight grip of the troll wrap around his body.

“NO!” 

“BILBO!”

“Take your large grubby hands off my nephew!”

There was an old Fae superstition about events happening in three, and it was this thought that passed through Bilbo’s head as he was held above the troll’s mouth and dropped. It was of course the third time he was captured solely by the troll that he would be eaten.

“Let the dawn take you all!”

He barely heard the new voice over the pounding of his heart. He had just enough time to glimpse the beauty of the new day before the dark gullet of the troll became his only vision. His arms desperately wrapped around the slimy wet tongue of the troll as he tried to stop his descent while his feet scrambled against the walls of William’s throat. The troll gave a weak cough, and Bilbo pleaded with every deity he could think of that the giant would just cough him back up when something odd happened.

The tongue he clung to hardened making it easier to grip, and Bilbo’s foot nearly became trapped in the stone opening below him. The troll heaved a heavy sigh, and then the air flow stopped. Bilbo’s pants and whines assaulted his ears as he leaned hard against the stone tongue. Stone, the trolls finally turned to stone.

He felt like he could pass out from sheer relief. He took a deep breath and nearly gagged in the process. Turning to stone did not improve the stench inside the still wide-open troll mouth. He looked up towards the soft daylight streaming above and went about making the climb. The inside of the troll’s mouth was almost too smooth to climb directly so Bilbo was forced to wrap his body around the troll’s tongue to shimmy up like a tree trunk. 

He got just high enough to reach out to the troll’s teeth, but lacked the strength to go ahead and pull himself up and over the barrier. He poked his head up briefly to catch quick images of what appeared to be his family in mourning. Garry had a sobbing Siggy held to his chest. Isam seemed to be accepting pats of condolence from a tall man in grey, and while he couldn’t see him, he could hear Hilde giving the oddly quiet dwarrows an earful. Bilbo grunted as he dropped a few inches back into the mouth. 

“HELLO?! SOME HELP PLEASE!” He hollered lifting one of his hands to wave it down to the group below.

“Bilbo?!” Vili’s exclaim of shock sounded.

“HE’S ALIVE!” Siggy’s voice carried up next.

“Rope! Get the rope!” Thorin ordered much to Bilbo’s surprise.

“Hang tight, Bilbo!” Isengrim called up. “We’ll get you out.”

“Not like I have much choice.” Bilbo grumbled.

“Maybe he should just crawl down to the beast’s stomach, and we’ll carve him out.” Gloin offered.

“I would prefer not to!” Bilbo shouted back causing a few chuckles amongst the dwarrows.

He didn’t have to wait very long before a loop of rope was thrown up to him. Bilbo dropped a little further as he maneuvered the line around his upper torso.

“Have you got it, lad?” Bofur asked.

“Yeah! I got it!” He yelled.

At once Bilbo went sailing upward. He scrambled to keep from banging against the rocky corners, and as it was, winced when the troll’s stupid fang caught on his jacket. Yet, the moment his head was free to breathe fresh air was almost rejuvenating. He didn’t have long to enjoy his freedom though as a harsh yank had him flying down to the company below. He gave a yelp anticipating the harsh ground, but was pleasantly surprised to land in Vili and Nori’s arms. He gave them both a grateful smile as he was set back on his feet when a body rammed into him hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Bilbo. I didn’t mean any of it.” Siggy cried clinging to him like he might disappear.

“It’s okay, Siggy.” Bilbo soothed. “I’m sorry too.”

He stared over the younger hobbit’s shoulder finally finding it in him to be perplexed at the appearance of his uncles. Not that he was complaining as Isengrim and Isengar immediately joined the family group hug. Hildifons stepped up after that, and Bilbo was a little wary, not in any mood to be lectured again. It was like a balm to his soul when Uncle Hilde took Siggy’s place in their hug pressing tight into him with a desperation that made Bilbo feel years younger.

“Still sure you don’t need someone to check and make sure you wiped?” He murmured in Bilbo’s ear.

Bilbo huffed in amusement. “No need. I know for a fact I didn’t.

Hildifons laughed wetly, his hand finding its way into Bilbo’s hair as he pressed their foreheads together.

“I just know your mother would have found some way to haunt me if I had let you die by being eaten by a troll with my last words having been said in anger. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.” Bilbo whispered feeling his legs start to give out on him.

In fact, his vision was starting to go black when Hildifons caught him, slapping his cheeks lightly.

“None of that! Let’s get out of here first before you try to pass out on me.”

“I agree. My dear Bilbo! I must say, I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life.”

Bilbo finally gave the taller man his attention. It had been many years since he had last seen him, but he would know those kind, mischievous eyes anywhere.

“Gandalf?” He questioned.

The wizard nodded his head.

“What are you doing here? What are any of you doing here actually?” He remarked looking over at his uncles with a questioning gaze.

“That is quite a tale, but perhaps best saved for the road.” He offered with a look over at the dwarrows.

“Vili and Gloin, get the ponies.” Bilbo heard Thorin order. “I want to be as far from here as we can before we set up camp once more.”

“If you’re not too opposed, Your Majesty, I know a reprieve nearby where we would certainly be welcome to warm food and soft beds. My companions and I were just on our way there, and would welcome the company.” Gandalf stated waving an arm at Bilbo’s hobbit uncles.

“And where is this reprieve of yours?” Thorin sighed, crossing his arms.

“Rivendell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited for this upcoming chapter because we're going to finally get some real Thorin/Bilbo interactions in Rivendell and all from Thorin's POV. Thank you for the bookmarks/kudos/comments. I'm going to switch back to Guardian of Kings next, but hopefully will have the next chapter to this story up sooner than this last one. Feel free to check out my tumblr page [here](https://sunnyrosewritesstuff.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> -Sunny

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time using ao3 so any pointers would be appreciated. This story can also be found on FanFiction.


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